Of Bards and Bastards
by WolFang1011
Summary: In which there are snippets about the evolution of the relationship between Alistair and Leliana throughout the events of the Fifth Blight and perhaps beyond. Disclaimer: Dragon Age is the intellectual property of BioWare. I own nothing. Beta: ClaireDuhBear and the woman is a wolf.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Alistair did not feel easy in his mind.

As a Grey Warden, he knew that it was their duty to do anything they could to stop a Blight, _anything_ being the key word. But to leave an entire village – a village full of _people_ , for the Maker's sake – at the mercy of the Darkspawn horde… it just didn't sit right with him.

Aedan had told him that it was for the best, that since they were the only two remaining Wardens in all of Ferelden, they would have to survive no matter what.

But sacrificing a few scores of helpless people just so that the two of them could survive, just because they could stop the Blight? It wasn't even a bloody guarantee that they would slay the Archdemon! Who was to say that a Genlock wouldn't creep up on Aedan and slit his throat? What if a Hurlock sent an arrow through his own skull? Or best of all, what if an Orc just sat on the pair of them with its disgustingly Darkspawn-y arse and crushed their spines? Either situation was likely to occur, Alistair thought grimly. Well, _maybe_ not the last one, but one could never be too careful.

The warrior sighed and neatly piled his greaves atop his cuirass. Alistair then pulled off his gauntlets and settled them atop his little pile, which lay beside his bedroll. Finally free of all the fiddling bits of armour, the templar scanned the campsite.

Across from him lay his brother Warden, Aedan, sprawled out on his bedroll and tossing restlessly in his sleep.

 _Probably having fun with his nightmares._

The man was a couple of years younger than himself. Though he didn't know much about his comrade – they had only been acquainted for three days – he knew Aedan could hold his own in a fight. His prowess with his sword and dagger _was_ rather impressive.

From what little he knew of the man's character, Alistair felt that Aedan was a good sort. He was quiet in his ways, and had an air of nobility about him. His words were measured and he came off as being very pragmatic, if the way he weighed the importance of their lives against those of the people of Lothering was any indication.

It hadn't gone unnoticed by Alistair though how the idea of utter helplessness had broken through Aedan's mask of pragmatism and self-control. It was the little things – a clenched jaw or fist – that gave away how distraught the man was himself.

He was a rational leader, Alistair concluded. Though he felt guilty for having dumped so much responsibility on his young shoulders, he was sure Aedan would do a much better job than he ever could. Indeed, had things been left up to him, Alistair would have probably defended Lothering against the Darkspawn horde and had them all killed. It wasn't a pretty thought, but it was the truth. He just wasn't cut out for any form of leadership.

Craning his neck, Alistair narrowed his lids in annoyance. The sneaky witch-lady- _thing_ had camped rather far away from them. This was a good thing as far as Alistair was concerned. The farther away Morrigan was from him, the better.

He'd accepted Aedan's logic that a mage would be beneficial in their little party, but Morrigan was not the kind of mage he would, or could, trust. The woman was a Witch of the Wilds, by Andraste's holy knickers! Who knew what she and her equally strange mother cooked up in the dump that was the Korcari Wilds! In fact, Alistair would not be surprised if she and her mother were somehow responsible for the Blight to begin with.

On top of that, the woman was a pain in the arse to talk to! The obnoxiously smug tone, the biting sarcasm… who would even _want_ to talk to a woman like that? Well, maybe some people would approach her solely based on the clothes she chose to wear, but then again, Alistair couldn't see Morrigan being wooed by anybody in the immediate or distant future. He had decided that he would associate with her as little as he could. Save for the random verbal spat. Those were fun. Somewhat. If he squinted.

Shaking thoughts of the vile swamp witch away from his mind, he looked to his right, where he found one of the newest members of their brood – a hornless Qunari who referred to himself as Sten. Alistair knew that Sten was a title and not, in fact, an actual name. He had tried to engage the large Qunari in conversation earlier, but after receiving a plethora of different grunts, which could have meant anything from _Yes_ and _No_ to _Sod off_ , Alistair had been forced to give up.

And finally, he brought his gaze down upon another new recruit, a red-haired Chantry sister who wielded a bow and was accurate enough to hit a Genlock in the right nostril at a distance of two hundred yards - a feat Alistair found very impressive and somewhat intimidating. Leliana was her name, he thought while scratching his head. The woman was a curious sort. She had that benevolent, goody-goody kind of demeanour, but her skill with her weapon – _and fists_ , Alistair thought, thinking of how she had broken the nose of a Loghain soldier with her palm – spoke of a different life. A more dangerous one.

The woman was currently seated on the grass a few feet to his left, chin resting on drawn up knees. Her attention was drawn when Alistair cleared his throat.

"Leliana, was it?"

The redhead nodded her acquiesce.

 _Please don't let this one be another one-sided conversation!_ "So. What would somebody like _you_ be doing in the Chantry?"

The woman raised an eyebrow. "What is meant by _somebody like me_?" she asked, her Orlesian accent shining through.

"You know, a beautiful, charming woman like yourself who can potentially kill someone half a mile away," Alistair replied with a small smile, before he knitted his eyebrows together. "They don't teach you how to fight in the cloister these days, do they?"

Leliana laughed. "No. No they don't."

"Makes sense. Wouldn't want to scare away the people coming to worship with fighting nuns," the templar said thoughtfully.

"You are not used to seeing women fight?"

"It's not that," Alistair scratched at his chin. "I've seen my share of female warriors. Just not many within the ranks of the Grey Wardens."

"You want to see more fighting women, do you?"

"Hmm. Would that be so terrible?" It was only then that he noticed Leliana's lip curl into a devious smirk, and hastily added, "Not that I'm some drooling lecher or anything. Please stop looking at me like that."

The woman giggled heartily. "So you are a templar? Were you a brother at the Chantry, then?"

"I never actually became a templar. Got recruited into the Wardens before I could take my vows."

Leliana placed her cheek atop her knees and looked at him, her short hair falling over the side of her face. "Do you regret leaving the Chantry?"

"Nope. Never," Alistair responded in a heartbeat. As if he would. "Do you?"

The redhead sighed and started rocking to and fro. "Yes. You may not believe it, but I found peace there. Peace like I've never known."

Alistair nodded. Not that he would know, anyway. "It used to get so quiet at the monastery that I would start screaming until one of the brothers came running. I would tell them that I was just checking," he said with a chuckle. "You never know, right?"

"I… no, I never did anything like that," the bard replied, her face scrunched up. "I quite enjoyed the quiet."

Alistair shrugged and poked the fire with a stick. "Suit yourself. The look on their faces was always priceless."

"You're a very strange man."

"And you're not the first woman to say that to me," he chuckled. "Speaking of which, you never did answer my question."

"Let's just say that I had strong reasons for joining the Chantry and leave it at that, shall we?"

Alistair turned to see his companion looking straight at the fire, a distant look about her. "Fair enough," Alistair replied and spread his legs out, placing his palms on the soft grass and leaning back slightly. "So what do you think will happen to all those people we left behind in Lothering?"

"Some will find their way to Denerim. Many will die," the bard said with a sigh. "As the Maker wills."

"Yes, but don't you wish you could have stayed there? To help more people, I mean." Surely the redhead couldn't be as pragmatic as Aedan. Handling two walking pillars of logic would drive him insane!

"If the Blight isn't stopped, everyone will die. This is the greater good we're serving, both of us, right here."

Alistair stood corrected. "So it's all right to let some people die for the greater good?" When she nodded, the templar found himself fumbling with his words. "I… I'm not sure if I'm okay with that. I feel guilty for leaving all those people there, all panicked and helpless."

Leliana's face softened, and she said in what was a more soothing, comforting tone, "You're doing what you must, Alistair. There will be worse to come yet... you will need to steel yourself, you know this."

Alistair sighed and lay down flat on his back, looking at his palms. "I've never been very good at that. The steeling myself part, I mean. I find it better sometimes to just be a little weak," he smiled sadly. "I'm all right with that, really."

"I don't believe you," Leliana said sternly. "Besides, it isn't like any of us has a choice."

Alistair opened his mouth to retort, but Aedan chose that moment to sit bolt upright, breathing like a fish on land.

"Let me guess. Not a pleasant nightmare?" Alistair asked and sat up.

The younger man shook his head, rubbing his palm over his eyes. "It felt so bloody _real…_ "

"Yes. I remember my first nights," Alistair replied, scratching the back of his head. "Don't worry though. It'll lessen with time. Hopefully."

Aedan shot him an accusatory glare. "You knew about this and didn't warn me?"

"And spoil the oh-so-sweet surprise? Never," he replied with a toothy grin and lay back down. "Well, now that you're up, you can take watch while I get myself some beauty sleep."

"But-"

"Any questions you have can wait till morning," Alistair said as he held up a hand to cut off Aedan. Then, placing his forearm over his eyes, he added, "Good night, mate. G'night, Leliana."

Some conversations he really wasn't very eager to have.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"What was that… soup you made for supper last night?" Leliana couldn't help but ask.

Their little group was on their way to Lake Calenhad docks, their destination being the Circle Tower. It had been Alistair's suggestion to try and secure the help of the mages first, and seeing as it was the closest – Orzammar or the Brecilian Forest would take weeks instead of the mere two days to get to the Tower – it was the obvious choice.

And it had been the blond ex-templar to whom she directed her question.

"Ooh, that? That's a traditional Fereldan lamb and pea stew." She heard Sten's grunt from behind. Morrigan had decided to not react at all. Cousland, walking a few paces before them, shook his head. "Did you like it?"

 _Maker, he looks so hopeful. How can I disappoint him?_

"Oh, so… it was lamb then? It had a certain…" She searched for the right words. "...texture I don't normally associate with lamb." _There, that was gentle enough._

Alistair tilted his head to the side, giving her a curious look. "They didn't make lamb and pea stew for you in Lothering?"

It was still early in the morning, a few hours left to go till noon was upon them. A cool wind caressed Leliana's cheeks before rushing southwards, rustling leaves in its wake. Their surroundings were so serene, so beautiful, that she had a hard time believing a Blight was upon them. The fact that Lothering, a place she had considered home, was now probably nothing but ruins was also a hard thought to swallow.

But she tried to smile anyway.

"We ate simply there. Whole grains made into biscuits or bread, and vegetables from the garden, cooked slightly." She smiled softly at the memory. "But no heavy stews, I'm afraid."

The warrior gave her a rather sage nod. "Ah, so the last lamb you had was probably cooked Orlesian style. Food shouldn't be frilly and pretentious like that. Now here in _Ferelden_ , we do things _right_ ," he said, displaying faux patriotism by bringing up balled fists to his chest. "We take our ingredients, throw them into the largest pot we can find, and cook them for as long as possible until everything is a uniform grey colour. As soon as it looks completely bland and unappetising, that's when I know it's done."

"You're having me on!" Leliana said incredulously, and mock punched his shoulder lightly when he began chuckling.

"You should eat in more Fereldan inns. You'll see what I mean."

"Do they all cook like you?" Leliana said teasingly in good humour. "That might colour my opinion of Fereldan inns."

To that, Alistair wagged his finger at her face. "You can't go straddling both Orlais and Ferelden, missy. You're in Ferelden now, so you're Fereldan. You have to take pride in such things." After a pause: "Tasteless stews included."

By then, the party had reached the docks by Lake Calenhad. _It's so easy to lose myself in conversation._

On the horizon stood the Circle Tower: tall, proud and alone. "The view from the top must be spectacular," she remarked. "Have you ever been to the Tower, Alistair?"

"Not that I can recall," he said. "Unless they drugged me and brought me there unbeknownst to me. Then I can't say. Although you'd think I'd _know_ if they did take me on an abducted expedition."

Morrigan was about to retort sharply, Leliana noted from the look on her face, but was interrupted by a templar blocking the way to the shoreline.

"You! You're not looking to cross the lake, are you? Because I have strict orders to not let anyone pass."

The man emphasised every other word, giving his station more importance than it probably held.

"We're Grey Wardens," Cousland said, stepping up to the interrogation. The man didn't talk much, if at all, so Leliana hung on his every word. "We're here to seek the assistance of the mages to fight the Blight."

"Oh so you're a Grey warden, are you?" _Sceptical._ "Prove it."

"I have these documents here," Alistair chimed in, elbowing past Cousland and handing over some papers.

"Oh? A Grey Warden seal, eh?" the Templar returned the documents, clearly unimpressed. "I have some papers too. They say I'm the Queen of Antiva. What do you make of that?"

Leliana giggled. "Aren't queens supposed to be female?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"Don't be questioning royalty!" the man readily replied.

"Is idiocy a prerequisite for being a templar, I wonder?" Morrigan asked mostly to herself, though she didn't get a reply from Alistair, who merely huffed.

"Anyway, it was nice chatting with you. I've one job, and one job only, and by the Maker's shiny gold cutlery, I will do it!" the templar said and then made a shooing motion with his hand. "Now on your way. Right now. Go."

"Look," Cousland said and took a step forward. Even from a single word Leliana could clearly see that the man had lost his patience. "What's your name?"

"Caroll. What's it to y-"

"Listen, Caroll. I'm sure we can work something out, eh?" Alistair suggested, shooting Cousland a nervous glance, as if ready to hold him back.

"Well, maybe... if you had forty sovereigns you're willing to part with... I know a girl in Wutherford and she'll only agree to see me if-er, never mind," Caroll said and cleared his throat. "Hmm. That redhead, there at the back. She doesn't need to go to the Circle, does she?" Leliana felt her eyebrows jump to her hairline at the implications. "Because it gets a little lonely here sometimes and, you know, you could leave her here with me-"

"What?" the redhead blurted out and blushed deeply when she felt every pair of eyes on her. Except perhaps Cousland's. "Err... no. I'm sorry, I'm a... _poetess_ , yes, and I'm not interested in anything you have to offer."

 _I should have spoken more slowly._

"I've never met a poetess," Caroll said very agreeably, sounding happy even. "The other men tell stories about them. When the knight-commander isn't around, of course."

"He doesn't approve of such tales, I take it?" Alistair chuckled, apparently glad that Cousland hadn't punched Caroll's nose back into his brain.

"Fah. The stories sheltered Templars tell will pale in comparison to mine," Leliana grinned and looked at Caroll through half-lidded eyes. If she was going to be sexually objectified, she might as well give proper reason for it. "Would you like to hear my tales of debauchery and excess?" she asked in a semi-sultry voice.

"Yes! Please?" Caroll begged, wringing gauntleted hands together.

 _He looks like a puppy!_

She felt a hand on her shoulder and saw Sten walk past, a small bundle in his palm. He shoved the packet into the templar's chest. "You look peckish. Munch on these if you like."

"Oooh! Cookies!" Caroll exclaimed and began gulping down three at a time.

"At least that should shut him up," Morrigan commented sourly. Leliana, however, was curious.

"I am content to part with them if it saves us from this fool," Sten said to Caroll's face, mirroring Morrigan's opinion.

"Mmm. You shrcash my back and I scrash yoursh, yesh?" the templar said between chewing. Then he swallowed and sighed happily. "We can go across now, if you really want."

"Maker be praised," Alistair sighed. "Yes. Yes we would like that very much."

"Come along then."

As everybody fell into step behind Caroll, Leliana trotted up to Sten. "Where'd you get those cookies?"

"I relieved a child – a fat, slovenly thing – of these confections in the last village we passed. He didn't need any more."

She heard Alistair chuckle beside her. "You actually _stole cookies_ from a child? Seriously?"

"For his own good," Sten said solemnly before stepping onto the boat.

Alistair went next, and helped Leliana onto the boat.

"Thank you," she smiled at him "Chivalry isn't all dead, I see."

"Oh you know me," he waved it off and sat himself down to man the rudder, as Sten and Cousland manned the oars. "Always trying my luck with the ladies. Can't let my hair do all the work, can I? Amazing as it is."

Morrigan had sat up front with Cousland's mabari. Leliana knew through conversation that she had not seen much of the world. _Even the lake must be new for her._ She smiled and sat across from Alistair. "Now _you're_ a smooth talker."

"No, _you're_ the smooth talker here. The way you handled Caroll? Brilliant! I wish I could do that," the man sighed dramatically as Caroll cast off the moorings and pushed the boat away from the jetty. Then he brightened. "But now that I have you all to myself, how about some tales of debauchery and excess? I'll even beg and plead like Caroll."

Leliana laughed aloud and tousled Alistair's hair. " _Mais oui!_ Now this is among my favourites. It's about that cluster of stars, see?" she said and pointed, "Elindra and her soldier..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Contrary to popular belief, Alistair took great pains to maintain his hairstyle. In private, of course. Or when he thought nobody was looking. Mostly, when Morrigan wasn't looking. Sten didn't care either way, Aedan wasn't too concerned about appearances to begin with, and as for Leliana, well, _nothing_ escaped the woman's attention. Alistair had learnt that lesson one morning when she had commented about how he played with his golem dolls while on guard duty.

The man frowned while pushing his fingers through his hair carefully. _Dolls? Honestly!_

They weren't _doll_ dolls. They were golem dolls! They were masculine! A boy's toy! Well, not _exactly_ a _toy_. They were a means of expressing creativity. _In a masculine way_. Yes. That was what it was.

"Why do I even bother?" he muttered to himself and poked the fire with a stick.

The Circle had been a bloody nightmare. Literally _and_ figuratively. Abominations running rampant, demons running rampant, insane mages running rampant... lots of rampant-ness. Except for the templars. They were just afraid and doing nothing.

Not that they _could_ do anything, Alistair thought bitterly. One or two abominations, they could have handled. But a horde of the monstrosities was one too much for any Circle.

The incident had cemented in his mind the dangers mages posed to society, and yet, he couldn't ignore the fact that the majority of the mages had been _innocent._ The ones resorting to blood magic only wanted change. _And_ kill them, initially.

The templars had resorted to the Right of Annulment, by which the entire tower would be _cleansed_ of mages. That wasn't very nice, either.

Alistair tiredly rubbed his eyes. The schism between the mages and templars would only grow until something exploded. Change would have to come. The way things were now weren't right, even Alistair could see that.

Not all mages were bad, however; Wynne, an elderly mage who had joined them and had done everything in her power to help them throughout the nightmarish experiences at the tower. That she was a healer had been an added bonus. She and her apprentice, one Solona Amell, had joined them on their quest to end the Blight. Alistair liked them well enough.

"Not playing with dolls tonight, I see."

Alistair jumped and yelped. To his credit, it was a rather masculine yelp. At least he thought it was.

"Maker, Leli," he exclaimed, hand over his chest in an effort to calm his heart. "You scared me!"

Giggling heartily, the redhead plopped down beside him on the grass. "I'm sorry, Alistair. I couldn't help it," she said before looking at him. Then she burst into laughter again.

"So _glad_ I amuse you," the man complained, rubbing his chest exaggeratedly. "I could've died you know! Maker, I'll never get over get over how quietly you can move."

Wiping away tears and _still_ giggling, Leliana said, "It took me years and years to learn. What fun is it if I never use it?"

 _So much evil in so cute a girl..._

"Well, use it on Morrigan next time."

"I don't know about that," she mused and pulled her knees up to her chest, leaning back and placing her palms on the ground. "Morrigan has _very_ sharp senses. I might have dabbled in stealth for a long time, but I'm definitely not the best at it."

"Huh. So you didn't sneak around when spying?"

"Well. We all had different ways of doing things."

"Like?"

"Some preferred not to be seen at all, to cloak themselves in shadow and darkness." Leliana tucked a loose coil of hair behind her ear before continuing. "I realised that it is not such a bad thing to be seen, as long as you don't stand out and are quickly forgotten. I specialised in blending in, not drawing attention and looking like I had every right to be there. It is invisibility, but of another kind."

"Well, I can see how that would work, I suppose," Alistair replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know. The stories I've heard of Orlesian bards were often far... racier, shall we say. It had to do with how they lulled their targets into complacency and assassinated them."

"We had strict rules regarding that," the bard replied with a gentle smile, as if explaining a lesson to a petulant child patiently. "If not, then why would bards be entertained in courts?"

"Fair point, but there is a certain allure to danger, no? Besides, I even heard that bards used seduction. How would you expect to remain invisible after, well, after _that_?"

The smug look that came over the redhead's face made Alistair rather apprehensive of what was to come.

"Not if they died."

 _Oh._

Alistair stared at Leliana's face blankly for a while before looking back at the dancing flames. "Oh," he repeated intelligently.

The bard sat up, wrapped her arms around her knees and inclined her body a bit towards his own, retaining the smug look. "Dying while in the company of a lovely seductress... tell me that isn't a good death."

Alistair squirmed. He tried to play it off as a shudder, but it wasn't cold enough to warrant one. Screwing up his face, he turned to look at his friend. "I don't know if I should take you seriously... but you scare me sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

"Oh go away."

The comfortable silence that ensued was one Alistair welcomed. His mind wandered to the very fresh memories of how he had been manipulated by a demon, using his desires against him by projecting a lifelike illusion. His sister, Goldanna, had been there. She was the only family Alistair had, though she didn't know of his existence. It had taken Aedan quite some effort – and a tight slap – to make him concentrate on the realities of life.

Sighing, the man pulled up his right leg and folded his elbow over his knee. Glancing at his friend, he saw that she herself seemed to be in thought. She had gone through a nightmare too, having her desires used against her.

 _And here I am, letting my own worries eat away at me when everybody else suffered equally. Maker, when did I become so selfish?_

He half wanted to ask the girl what hers had been about, but he didn't feel ready to share much of his personal life with her yet. _Not like it's terribly interesting anyway._

"That templar. Cullen. Did you know him?"

That question caught him off guard. Had she seen him staring?

"Cullen Rutherford is his name," Alistair began with a shake of his head, thinking back to the cowering, weeping mess of the man he had seen at the Circle, driven half-mad from fear, thirst, starvation, and lyrium-withdrawal. "He and I were... bunkmates. We have had five pillow fights. Two of which he won and one which is considered a draw by mutual consent, because of our fragile male egos, you know?"

Leliana merely nodded, silently asking him to continue. So taking a deep breath, Alistair did.

"Templars recruit their members from a very young age, you see. Sometimes from infancy. I was sent to Bournshire at the age of ten. Four years later, came along Cullen, aged thirteen. He was among the oldest recruits and for a while, everyone made fun of him because there was no way he could catch up. But he did. Showed all of his haters, that one," Alistair proclaimed proudly. "He took to the training like a fish to water. Said it's what he wanted to do all his life, you know? Pledge himself to a noble cause. A young idealist. Like most of them. Me, I hated it there. Training was fun, though.

"Anyway, came 9:29 Dragon and I was recruited into the Wardens. That was the last I saw of Cullen. Until yesterday. Got to live his dream, it seems. I guess he didn't anticipate how it would turn out," he finished with a sigh.

"He was Solona's templar, you know."

 _Oh? Well, that's news._

"Have you spoken with her, then?"

Leliana nodded. "She says that Cullen was tasked with watching over her, along with a few others. Wynne has told her about the circumstances of the rebellion. I'm almost glad she stayed with the children."

"Yes. I wouldn't have wanted to face any of the charges in that crazed state, either," Alistair said.

"It seems to me there may have been some romantic involvement."

"Really?" he asked with a frown. Templars developing feelings for mages – and vice versa – though not unheard of – was frowned upon. For Cullen, who took his training so seriously, to suddenly break one of the core beliefs...

"Mhmm. But they were both very shy, it seems. Admiring the other from a distance." The bard smiled. "It's beautiful, love is. Sad, how they are now separated."

"What else did you get to know about her?"

"Oh. Basic things. She's a Free Marcher. The Amells are a noble house in Kirkwall, apparently. She has been a part of the Fereldan Circle of Magi since she was five. She was also one of the brightest young mages. She was forced to take the Harrowing – I think it's called? – a few months ago. Wynne says she's the youngest to do so."

 _She does look rather young._ "How old is she?"

"Nineteen."

Alistair rubbed his face. "Dear Maker..." he groaned into his palm. That was _too_ bloody young! Even for a prodigy. Greagoir must've been _really_ paranoid at her growth...

He felt Leliana touch his shoulder soothingly, only for a fleeting second. "Maybe you should talk to her? You could swap stories. Talk about Cullen, perhaps."

"Yeah. Yeah, I will. Tomorrow probably," the man said with a sigh and looked at Leliana. "Do you know what the Harrowing is?"

"I've heard bits and pieces here and there. Something to do with the Fade, yes?"

"Hmm. Mages are connected to the Fade, you see. When they sleep, they can freely traverse there. On the other hand, demons from the Fade may also take over the mage during this time, and so abominations are created," Alistair explained. "The Harrowing is... a ritual. In it, the mage is forcefully sent into the Fade in spirit form to confront a demon. If they can overcome the temptations of said demon, jolly good. If not, and they get taken over." He shrugged. "The templars kill them before they can truly become an abomination."

The quiet gasp from his side told him all he needed to know.

"But that's... that's _horrible!_ "

"Uh-huh, yeah," the almost-templar answered with a click of his tongue. "Pretty bloody horrible."

It was a fate he had been fortunate enough to escape. Unluckily, Cullen was caught right in the bloody middle of it.

Some time had passed before Leliana rekindled their conversation. "You are not sleepy?"

"Sort of, I suppose," Alistair said and yawned. It was a curious coincidence how people always yawned when other people did or even mentioned yawning in general. It was the kind of thing he thought about while pretending to study back at Bournshire. "You?"

"I am," Leliana answered with a yawn of her own. "Who has second watch?"

"Aedan and... _her,_ " Alistair replied and picked up his sheathed sword from the ground and onto his lap. "You go wake the witch. I'll go see about our fearless leader. Oh and by the _way,_ " he interjected whilst rising to his feet. "Have you heard? Morrigan and him are... _ya know_."

"Have you nothing better to do than to spread idle gossip?" Leliana chided him amusedly as he held out his hand to her, which she took and pulled herself up.

"Well, _excuse you_ for not being interested in _juicy_ gossip. I shall keep all the latest news to myself from now on."

She playfully punched him on the forearm. "I could always gossip about how our _manly_ templar plays with dolls in his tent."

"They're not _dolls_ , okay?" Alistair protested before sighing and shaking his head. "Will you let this go if I let you play with me?"

She grinned so brightly at him that he thought he would go blind.

"I'll be _right_ back after waking Morrigan!"

The man rubbed his cheek. "Andraste preserve me," he muttered as he watched the bard sprint towards the witch's camp in the distance. Then he went through the folds of Aedan's tent to kick him on the arse.

 _Well. Spending time with her can't be_ _that_ _bad, right?_

* * *

 **A/N: Updating today - 20.12.2015 - because it marks the two year anniversary of the last day of my high school life. So yeah. To everybody who reads this, happy holidays. Have a very merry Christmas, and a happy new year!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Solona Amell had become the unofficial princess of their little brood.

Leliana wasn't at all opposed to the development. It was always nice to have more girls around. And Solona was a _darling!_

Having spent all of her life within the confines of the Circle, she was utterly oblivious to the sights and sounds the world had to offer. Being a woman of the world, she was well equipped to quench most – if not all – of her curiosities. From history to wives tales and from religion to politics, the bard had covered a plethora of topics in the week they had been on the road together. Orzammar loomed ever closer, and she couldn't wait to go on a voyage of discovery along the stone streets of the dwarven capital with her newest friend.

 _But that's probably another week from now_.

As she left Solona's tent after regaling her with the tale of Aveline and stepped into the quiet stillness of the Fereldan night, Leliana took a while to gaze up at the stars. This close to the Frostback mountains, the stars seemed to shimmer even more. The air was crisp and clear, and she filled her lungs with it, exhaling from her mouth.

And just across the mountains lay Orlais... _and bad memories._

Shaking off the thoughts of the past, the redhead scanned the campsite for the other members of their party. Wynne had already turned in for the night, Maker bless her. Sten was quietly meditating outside his tent, legs crossed over each other and palms resting on knees. Alistair had spread his templar training to the other warriors after Aedan had argued that nullifying magic would be a handy tool for them against Darkspawn Emissaries.

Aedan himself was seated beside Morrigan at her camp, chatting quietly. Leliana smiled to herself. Solona's presence had somewhat cracked Aedan's tough exterior. Instead of being by himself, he now took the time to make conversation with others, showing interest in their lives, beliefs and thoughts. He was growing and evolving as a leader as well as a person, though he kept his own past securely lidded.

Ah, but it was always a pleasure to see love blossom between people! She honestly hoped for the best for Morrigan. The woman was carefully aloof, and though her words were barbed, Leliana could sense the awkward loneliness behind them.

 _She is adept at keeping others at a distance. It's good that she's opening up to Aedan, at least._

Finally, her gaze landed on Alistair. The warrior had taken first watch, and was in the midst of an animated conversation with Aedan's mabari.

Making up her mind to _accidentally overhear,_ the bard stealthily approached the two.

"Do you really know what's going on here? The Blight, the civil war... I really wonder how much of it you understand," Alistair was telling the dog, who in turn wagged his tail happily.

Leliana giggled to herself.

"We're all special, you see... big parts to play." He continued. "Even you. _Especially_ you, in some ways. You are the mabari. You guard one of the most important people –"

Here, the dog, upon hearing about his master – and having spotted Leliana creeping up on Alistair – lifted his head off his paws and barked excitedly. No doubt he smelt the prank about to happen.

Alistair, clueless, scratched the nape of his neck. "What?"

Instead of giving Leliana away, the dog rose to his full height and started jumping around, keeping the warrior's attention fixed on him.

 _Intelligent boy!_

"You... you want to play?" the blond man ventured a guess. "But I'm _talking!_ Why doesn't anyone want to hear me talk?" he whined. Leliana couldn't see his face, but she knew he was pouting.

"Ah, but _I_ do," she whispered sensually right behind his ear. The reaction was instantaneous and utterly satisfying.

"Mummy!" Alistair yelped and sprang from where he sat and scarpered off to hug the mabari just as Leliana burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"You're _evil!_ " he wailed upon realising what had just transpired, now pouting fully. "How many times do I have to tell you to not do that, woman?!"

"I'm sorrrriieeee," Leliana choked out, rolling on the ground and clutching her stomach as tears rolled down her face. It didn't help that Aedan's mabari had started to energetically lick her face.

"You're just _mean!_ "

"And you're _adorable_ ," she said finally after sitting up, taking the dog's face in her hands and squeezing his cheeks. For some reason, she never could remember his name...

"...was that aimed at me, or the dog?"

"However you want to see it, Alistair," she replied heartily in a sing-song voice, scratching the big dog behind the ears as he placed his great head on her lap.

"Sure, take her side, Barkspawn," Alistair told the mabari accusingly, earning himself a muffled whine. "Traitor dog, you are."

"His name is... Barkspawn?"

"Well, no. Not technically, at least." Alistair hiked his shoulders. "Aedan named him _Lucien_. It's just so _bland_. Barkspawn is _way_ more interesting. You like Barkspawn more than Lucien too, don't you?"

Lucien – or Barkspawn – merely whined again, eyes closed from her scratching. Leliana giggled.

"I guess he just really likes you," Alistair mused and plopped down with his back to the fire, sitting across from her. "But seriously. What must I do to stop you from traumatising me every bloody night? It's not _funny_ , you know."

"It is to me."

"Well, find some other means of amusement, woman. Otherwise you'll have to prepare for a funeral."

"That's no problem," Leliana smirked. "I am well versed in the Maker's chants. I'll give you a proper send-off, my friend, don't you worry."

A long pause. "Oh."

Leliana couldn't help but laugh at his pout. It was surprising to her how easily these bouts of genuine laughter came these days. The days spent in Lothering, though peaceful, were quiet.

Alistair had said some time ago that there was a certain allure to danger. Leliana couldn't agree more. From the ripe young age of sixteen, she had flirted with danger, and it had been utterly exhilarating. Traversing the far corners of Thedas with Tug, Sketch and Marjolaine, the thrill of the Game and the rush of success – she remembered the feeling well. To her old self, the Game had been _fun._ Who would have thought that she would someday call creeping up on someone and scaring them _fun?_

 _Ah, how time changes one's outlooks on life_.

Her reminiscing was brought to a close when she heard Barkspawn – Lucien, she reminded herself – whine slightly. Only then did she realise that her fingers had stilled in his coat, and that the dog was complaining.

"Sorry about that," she whispered to the hound and resumed her efforts.

"Something on your mind?"

"Hmm. Just... thinking," she answered carefully. She didn't want to burden Alistair with her past. Not yet, if ever. The man had enough on his plate already. "Being so close to the Frostbacks, I was just thinking about my days in Orlais."

Alistair nodded. "What's it like in Orlais? Is it all festoons and frills and _shoes_ and pudding and – let's not forget it – obnoxious nobles like I've been told? Or have I been living a lie and need to prepare for an identity crisis?"

Leliana couldn't help but laugh at that. She rather liked his way of speech. It was both entertaining and endearing at the same time. "I wouldn't say you're _completely_ wrong, no. Val Royeaux _is_ rather vibrant."

"And do you miss the vibrancy of... I'm not even going to try and pronounce that."

"Val Royeaux," Leliana repeated with a smile, uttering the name slowly. "And how do I say it. Val Royeaux is her own person, her people little more than decorations. It's in stark contrast to other cities all over Thedas, where the _people_ are the life-blood and give character to the city.

"In Val Royeaux, there was always music, you see. Quiet refrains and triumphant choruses, streaming from the multitude of windows. But above all else was the Chant-" Alistair rolled his eyes. "-coming from the Grand Cathedral. It was magnificent. Ah, but it would take me a day or two to talk about Orlais – her golden fields, her lush meadows..."

"Dainty, ribbon clad shoes with tapered heels," the blonde warrior supplied innocently.

"Well, yes. Have I told you about that?"

"Nah. Lady Isolde – arl Eamon's wife – is Orlesian. I've _seen_ shoes, Leli. Shoes with embroidery, shoes smelling of pudding, shoes as large and heavy as bricks... bloody hell, it was frightening."

"Well, sometimes a girl just wants pretty feet, you know?"

"No, actually. And I don't think I'd want to know."

"Ah, but you can't mingle with high society in bad shoes." At Alistair's incredulous expression, she shrugged and continued, "Orlais is very fashionable. But it also has its positives and negatives, just like any other. Sometimes I miss it dearly, and sometimes I'm glad I'm rid of it."

"Is that why you left Orlais, then?" Alistair asked after a slight pause. "Because you got sick of it?"

"Among other reasons. You see, Ferelden is my homeland. My mother is Fereldan."

"Really?"

The bard nodded, fondling the ears of the almost-asleep hound. "My mother, Oisine, was from Denerim. She served an Orlesian noblewoman back during the days of the Orlesian occupation. However, when Orlais was defeated and the common started to detest the presence of any Orlesian-"

"The lady had to pack up her kitbag and carted off your mother to Orlais," Alistair said with a nod.

Leliana grinned. "Yes. I was born in Orlais, but my mother used to always tell me stories about Ferelden. She missed it, I think."

"Well of course! Who _wouldn't_ miss bland soups and the smell of wet dogs? Your mum was Fereldan through and through, mmmhmm."

"I like to think so," the redhead said quietly. "She died when I was very young, though. Lady Cecilie let me stay with her, for I had nobody else."

"Oh. Uh, I'm sorry to hear that. For what it's worth, at least."

"Thank you. That means more than you think." Leliana smiled at him. "She was quite old then, you see, and had me learn music and dance to entertain her." After a pause, she said, "It's unfair. I have more memories of Cecilie than my own mother."

She didn't mean to sound pathetic. But once this topic was brought up, it was very hard to contain the barrage of emotions. Leliana had been trained to keep feelings separated from actions, but some things couldn't be so easily compartmentalised.

"Surely, you must remember _something_ about her, at least?"

 _Well._

"The only thing I remember is her scent, strange as it sounds," she replied. "She kept dried flowers in her closet, amongst her clothes. They were these small, white Fereldan wildflowers with a very sweet fragrance."

"Ah," Alistair said. "Andraste's Grace."

That took the redhead by surprise. She hadn't expected _Alistair_ of all people to be knowledgeable about flowers. "You know it?"

"Mmm yeah. They used to grow in and around Redcliffe," he replied awkwardly. "The stablemaster would make me walk the horses sometimes, and I'd pick some, make a rudimentary bouquet out of them, and hang them in my quarters. It beats smelling of horse excrement any day, I'll have you know."

Leliana crinkled her nose. "You say this arl Eamon raised you, yes?"

"Oh did I say that?" Alistair said rather seriously, stretching his legs out before him. "I meant _dogs_ raised me. A whole damn pack of giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels."

Leliana snickered. "Oh _really_? That must have been so very hard for them."

"Well, they were _flying_ dogs, you see," the almost-templar replied, waving his arms around and widening his eyes to better convey the narrative. "Surprisingly strict parents, too, and devout Andrastians to boot."

"Oh? Were they now?"

"Mhmm. They make a great big pile of cheese, too. Funny, but you could never mention cheese to them. If you did, they'd growl and chase after you and take a chunk out of your drawers." Then thoughtfully: "Or did I dream all of that? Knowing myself as well I do, I wouldn't put it past myself."

Placing an elbow on her knee and supporting her chin on her palm, Leliana smiled softly at him. "I _do_ wonder how you got so good at deflecting questions with humour."

"Years upon years of practice," the man said with a good natured chuckle. Then he sighed and folded a leg atop the other. "How do I explain this? Well, I'm a bastard, and no, the fatherless kind. So no smart comments from you, hah!"

The exclamation caused Barkspawn to growl softly, and Alistair frowned, reducing the volume of his voice with a muffled apology.

"I completely lost my train of thought. I had a few witty comments planned too," he said forlornly before sighing. The man then breathed in and out a few times and rolled his shoulders, relaxing his body. When he spoke again, he sounded a lot more serious.

Leliana liked his serious voice better.

"My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe castle, but she died when I was very young, so I never knew her. Arl Eamon wasn't my father, but he took me in and put a roof over my head. He didn't have to, but he did anyway. And for that, I respect the man." With a shrug, he added, "And neither do I blame him for sending me off to the Chantry when I was old enough."

"Surely he must have liked you well enough to have taken you in," Leliana said. "Why did he send you away?"

"Hmm. There were rumours, you see. Rumours about how I was Eamon's bastard. As you can imagine, those didn't go over very well with his new Orlesian bride. The arl didn't care, but _she did_. So when I was ten, I was shipped off to Bournshire. Good thing too. Arlessa Isolde hated me. She had all but told me to my face that I wasn't to consider the castle my home."

The bard grew more and more infuriated at the ill-treatment Alistair had to endure in his youth. _No wonder he's well withdrawn behind his shield of humour._

"That's... that's disgusting," she said finally, shaking her head to further communicate her displeasure. "That's no way to treat a child!"

A shrug. "Maybe. She was threatened by my presence, I can see that now. Can't say I blame her. She probably lay awake at night wondering whether there was truth to the rumours." He chuckled. "You know, I'm actually proud I deprived her of sleep."

Maker, but he was _too nice!_

"You are truly blessed to have the strength of character to be capable of forgiveness, Alistair."

The man merely waved it off. "I don't know about that. I'm plenty vengeful. I just don't hold petty grudges. Besides, I wasn't always this way," he explained. "I remember I had an amulet with Andraste's holy symbol on it. It was my mum's, actually. Only thing I had of her. I was so... so _furious_ at having been sent away, I tore it off and threw it at the wall and it shattered."

Sighing heavily, Alistair ran a hand through his hair carelessly. " _Stupid_ , stupid thing to do. Anyway, the arl came by the monastery to see how I was a few times, but I was stubborn. I _hated_ it there, and blamed him for _everything_." Another shrug. "Eventually, he just stopped coming."

He then placed his hands on the grass and leaned back, looking up at the sky. "That's all there is to _that_ story."

"You were young, Alistair. It's natural to lash out like that when young," Leliana tried to comfort him. She would have given him a hug, but Barkspawn had fallen asleep on her lap. Instead, she reached out and placed her hand over his reassuringly, giving him a soft smile. "It wasn't your fault. So don't beat yourself up over it, yes?"

Alistair's head snapped down to look at her as soon as their hands made contact, and for a moment, she thought his face flushed ever so slightly. Confused, she inclined her head to the side gently.

 _Was it something I said?_

"Well," the man said after clearing his throat, meeting her smile with a cheeky, childish grin. "I _was_ raised by devout, flying dogs, so that _may_ have influenced my behaviour _just_ a tad."

"At least you've regained your good humour," she said with a grin of her own.

"Hmm. I may as well have been raised by dogs, the way I acted. But maybe that's how all bastards act. I don't know."

"One of the many mysteries of Thedas, indeed."

"Heh. That's a good one. I'll have to keep that in mind," Alistair said as he got up and sat himself down next to her, though still a respectable distance away. "And speaking of mysteries, do you have any mystery stories to tell? I _do_ so adore a good dose of suspense."

The bard couldn't help but giggle at his childishness. _He's adorable!_

"Of course you do," she said and ruffled his hair. "Well the night's still young, and the atmosphere is perfect. Let me tell you about the notorious Fereldan serial-killer simply known as _The Ripper..._ "

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry, but I was watching a playthrough of the _Jack the Ripper_ DLC for _Assassin's Creed: Syndicate_ when I wrote this. That was the only ending I could think of at the time and was too lazy to edit it later. Ehe...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Having a stone ceiling for a sky was something Alistair would never get used to.

What would happen if there was a quake? Wouldn't the rock just fall apart? The sky would _literally_ fall to the ground then.

The dwarven city of Orzammar was rather unique. Alistair had seen nothing like it before. Everything was stone and steam and _more_ stone. Dwarves, though they didn't have any magical talent, made up for it with their technological savvy. Being resistant to Lyrium, they were the only ones to mine the stuff and trade with the surface. Enchanting, the folding of Lyrium to empower trinkets and toys and weapons and armour, could only be done by dwarves... and the Tranquil.

But with great uniqueness came unique problems as well.

The Deep Roads, which originally connected the various dwarven thaigs, were now infested with Darkspawn, meaning that the Dwarves of Orzammar had to constantly fight off the blighted buggers. Unlike the surfacers, the dwarves had to live with this problem every day.

On top of that, they had been told upon their arrival that the ruler of Orzammar had passed away. The matter of succession had caused a rift in dwarven society, and until a king was selected, Orzammar could not contribute its forces to the cause of the Grey Wardens.

Aedan, Alistair and the rest of their crew had rented rooms at the inn. They could do nothing until the matter of succession was settled... unless they intervened somehow.

And they had agreed to do just that.

So after a day of coercing dwarven nobles and decimating the infamous Carta, Alistair was completely fagged out.

"Leliana, look at this amulet! It's shaped like sword!"

"Oh my! You have good taste, Solona! It's _beautiful_!"

Alistair groaned and rubbed his face. _There is no rest for the weary, it seems_.

What had begun as a simple excursion had grown into a shopping frenzy. Leliana had taken Solona under her wing and introduced her to the beautiful and finer things in life. Like satin boots or golden embroidered scissors or whatever it was they were fawning over. Alistair had only wanted to look for golem dolls. _Manly ones_. Instead, he had brought this down on himself.

After the fight with the Carta, Aedan had sustained a shoulder injury from a mace wielding thug. Wynne had restricted his movement and Morrigan had stayed behind to do... whatever it was Morrigan did. Sten had shut himself up in his room, probably meditating.

So when he had told Leliana that he wanted to take a stroll, she had jumped at the opportunity... and brought Solona along.

He wouldn't lie, he had been looking forward to taking a stroll with Leilana. _Alone_. Not that he had anything against Solona, no. Maker, she was a radiant young girl. However, there were no campfires in an inn, and thus no guard duty or private talks. And he liked talking to her.

 _But this isn't so bad_ , he thought as he trailed after the chatting girls through Dust Town, the poorest of Orzammar's three districts, and home to the casteless among the dwarves. Though Alistair walked around with his hand gripping his sword – after having seen the scum that was the Carta, he didn't particularly feel at home in Dust Town – since many of the residents had been employed by the Carta. The casteless weren't given legitimate work, and thus the Carta was their main source of income. And Alistair had been part of the party that had dismantled said organisation not too long ago.

"I _really_ don't think we should be down here," he began, flexing his shoulders uneasily. "What're you going to shop for _here_ anyways?"

"Oh Alistair, don't worry so much," Leliana assured him with a laugh. "We did a good thing. Bhelen has promised to abolish the caste system, no? These people will find employment elsewhere."

"Yeah, but-"

"And we aren't going to buy anything here. We're just looking," Solona said even as her eyes darted everywhere. "Nothing wrong with that."

"Fine, fine. You win. Be the mean pack of girls you are, ganging up on a poor, defenceless bloke like me," Alistair said with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, woe is me!"

That earned him a good-natured slap on the bicep from the grinning redhead. "You're hopeless."

"Well, I _do_ try," he smirked before calling out to Solona, who walked ahead. "Don't wander off too far! You'll get lost and then I'll have a heart attack and then Aedan will have Morrigan resurrect me and kill me again!"

Chuckling, the girl turned her head and stuck her tongue out at him.

 _Cheeky bugger._

"Feeling protective, are we?" Leliana asked him, poking his ribs with a finger. Alistair squirmed. "But don't worry. I have my eyes on her."

Nodding, the blond man rubbed the nape of his neck. "You really think bringing in Bhelen is for the best?"

"I think so," she replied after a bit of thought, switching her shopping satchel from one hand to the other. "He has made promises that'll strengthen the dwarves. I don't like him much, personally, but if Harrowmont is given power, he won't change anything. He's too... too..."

"Old-fashioned? Traditional? Kooky? Woozy?"

The bard laughed. "Traditional, yes."

"No surprise there. Have you _seen_ his beard?!"

"What does the beard have to do with anything?"

Alistair raised his brows. "Everything! Beards tell you a lot about the person in question. That kind of decorative, forest-y beard signifies someone who is used to doing things in a very specific way."

"Such a detailed study, that."

"Heh. I had to do _something_ while slacking off on studying while at Bournshire."

Their conversation stilled when they saw Solona waving them over.

 _Wonder what's there to see in this dump..._

"Leliana, Alistair, I want you to meet Zerlinda," the young mage said uncertainly. "Zerlinda has a problem. Tell us, ma'am."

Zerlinda turned out to be a dwarven beggar. She looked young, her features soft, although her eyes were red. _Probably from crying_ , Alistair thought, frowning in sympathy. She was a redhead, her hair swept up in a bun. She sat with her back against a wall on the dirt, a small bundle of cloth on her lap.

"Spare a bit for the needy?" she asked hopelessly. "Please? It's not for me... it's for my child."

Alistair's gaze landed on the bundle of cloth. "That's your child?" he said, somewhat sceptically.

Without a word, Zerlinda held out the bundle, and Alistair's doubts were silenced. Indeed, peeking from the cloth was the sleeping face of an infant. He leaned in for a closer look as Leliana crouched and took the baby into her arms, cradling it protectively.

"He's beautiful," she cooed quietly. Alistair scratched his head and looked back at Zerlinda.

"What's the problem?" he asked, taking care to keep his voice low.

"I need coin," the woman said miserably, keeping a close eye on Leliana and how she handled her baby. "My son... he's sick. He's hasn't had anything to eat all day nor has he any clean clothes to wear... do you have any coin to spare, my lord?"

Alistair shuffled on his feet. _My lord_ was the last thing he wanted to be called.

"She's right, though," Leliana chimed in before he could reply. "The baby is running a fever. Solona, can you do something?"

"But I-"

"I'll hold the baby. You see what you can do," Leliana pleaded her friend. "Please."

The raven haired girl looked conflicted for a few short seconds before her expression steeled and she nodded resolutely.

"Solona is a healer," Alistair explained to Zerlinda who looked on in confusion and amazement as the mage cast a mild spell over the infant, coating the boy in a gentle, blue aura. "She's had fourteen years of practice, don't worry. Your baby is in good hands."

"I-I cannot thank you enough, my lord," Zerlinda said, barely holding back sobs as she threw herself at Alistair's feet. "Thank you! Thank you so, so much!"

"Whoa! Hey now!" the blond man exclaimed in alarm, hurriedly kneeling to gently pry the crying woman from his legs. "You don't have to thank me. I just stood here like an arse. If you have to thank anybody, thank them," he said, jerking his chin towards the two girls before smiling at Zerlinda. "In the meantime, tell me what the problem is. If you stay down here, your child is bound to get sick again. Tell me how you ended up down here. You don't look like you belong in Dust Town, to be honest."

The woman shook her head, wiping away tears. "No, ser. I do not. I was born to a mining caste family. We weren't wealthy, but we never went hungry before. But... then I fell in love. He was so... so exotic. Tough. Didn't bow his head to anybody." She sighed. "But he was also casteless."

 _It makes sense now._

"In dwarven society, should a castles person have a child of a higher caste, that is, by sleeping with someone of said caste, they can petition for status. The worst thing is I _know_ he was just trying to father a higher caste child, but ours was a _son_ , casteless like his _father_! My parents disowned me and stripped me of my caste, unless I agree to abandon my son in the Deep Roads and pretend like I never bore him!" Zerlinda continued, her voice rising with each sentence until she raised her clasped her hands tightly in a paroxysm of anguish and helplessness. "But no! I can't bear to even think of it! It's all my fault! Ancestors curse me, but I can't do anything to set it right!"

 _This_ , Alistair thought, _is true despair_.

He had felt it before. Waking up in Flemeth's hut in the Korcari Wilds and being informed that the Grey Wardens had been slaughtered at Ostagar. Loghain's treachery had robbed him of his mentor. Duncan. The only person closest to a father-figure he had ever had.

Alistair knelt before Zerlinda and hugged her loosely, patting the top of her head awkwardly. He saw Leliana offer him a sad smile and he nodded.

 _It's the least I can do._

Solona had finished with her spell by the time Zerlinda composed herself. She offered Alistair a soft apology and profusely thanked Leliana and Solona when she found that her son's fever had abated. She rocked back and forth, humming to her son.

"What of the father?" Leliana asked cautiously, rubbing her arm. Alistair frowned. He knew the answer all too well.

"Neither hide nor hair of the lout ever since he found he wouldn't rise in the rungs of the caste ladder."

Alistair turned his face away and cursed under his breath.

"Why don't you just take your son to the surface? Away from the machinations of the caste system?" Solona suggested. "Any person who can disown their daughter and grandson can't really be considered a very good influence."

Zerlinda ducked her head. "I have considered that, believe me. But I don't have the funds to support myself and my child. Besides, where would I go?"

Here, Leliana reached out, took the unhappy woman's hand and dropped five silver coins onto her palm.

"Here," she said with a kind smile as she closed the woman's hand over the coins. "Go to the inn. Rent a room. When we leave Orzammar, come with us. I'll make sure to find a place for you in a Chantry."

Alistair had never been more proud of anyone in his life.

So when Zerlinda took their advice and left – after a plethora of emotional thank yous – he let Leliana know.

"That was a good thing you did, Leli. Not many people would. I'm proud of you, you know."

The redhead shrugged, though her cheeks coloured somewhat.

"It's what any decent person would have done," she said as they walked back to the inn, Solona walking a few yards before them, as usual. "I was hoping to buy a nug with the last of my money, but she needed it more."

Alistair halted in his tracks. _What_. "What? Nugs?"

"What, what?" the girl answered, though she didn't stop to look at him. "They're adorable! They look like pigs and they burrow-"

She then stopped abruptly and cleared her throat. "Let's just go, yes?"

 _Nugs as_ pets _! Holy Maker!_

"Yeah. You go ahead," he told her. "I'm going to see if I can find any golem dolls for sale."

It was only then that Leliana fixed him with a long look. Alistair figured she didn't believe him, but she just nodded.

"I'll see you later for dinner, yes?"

"Definitely."

He waited for her to take a few steps before he spun straight back and started walking back to Dust Town.

The dwarves ate nugs. It was a delicacy around these parts. And dwarves liked to brag. Alistair had heard rumours about how a certain dwarf in Dust Town had the best nugs to offer on the market. Caught them himself.

For a little money, surely he would sell a live nug?

It took a little – a _lot_ of – asking around, but Alistair finally found the dealer in question leant up against a wall. He was a young dwarf, with a tattoo under his right eye. Alistair didn't even have to ask – the dwarf began the conversation himself.

"Looking for nugs, are you? Best roasted treat in Thedas. Plus, Jerren – that's me – has the best nugs in all of Thedas!"

"Yeah, no," Alistair began with an uncertain grin. "I have a different request. I want a live one."

A curious eyebrow rose. "Why? You wanna roast it yourself?"

"Something like that."

"Huh," the dwarf clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "Fancy clothes you have on. Surfacer?"

"Mhmm yeah. I'm a Grey Warden."

" _Really_?" Eyes wide. "It's an honour for me, then. Tell ya what, I'll even give you a discount. You give me twenty silver and I'll get you the biggest nug I can find in the Deep Stone."

"Nugs live in the Deep Roads?" _With Darkspawn?_

The dwarf, Jerren, nodded. "The ones down there don't eat as much garbage."

"But don't they get, ya know, _tainted_?" Alistair asked sceptically, earning a shrug from the dwarf.

"Dunno, man. They always seem healthy. Ya know, shiny coats and bright eyes. Must be something they eat down there."

"Uh-huh. Guessing it'll take you some time, then? You know, the whole going into the Deep Roads all alone for a nug thing you have going on here?"

That earned him a chuckle. "Gimme a week. You can pay me then."

Jerren then stuck out his hand and Ailstair shook it.

"Much respect for you Warden folks," he said with a smile before departing. "See you soon, friend, and try not to fall into the sky!"

The almost-templar rolled his eyes.

 _Dwarves and their neurotic anxiety about falling into the sky._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Leliana awoke with a yawn and rubbed the sand from her eyes.

It was impossible to determine the time of day when inside the Deep Roads. They just ate when hungry and slept when sleepy, trusting their body clocks for the job. It worked for the most part.

The past few days had been especially exhausting.

They were tasked with venturing into the Deep Roads and finding the whereabouts of one Branka, the last Paragon of Orzammar. In this endeavour, they were aided by Oghren, a lecherous dwarf who was drunk all the time, and his protégé, Faren Brosca, a casteless dwarf.

Where Oghren talked a lot, Faren was more the type to sigh and shake his head. He talked enough when spoken to and was amiable enough, but still looked as if he preferred to be left alone to his devices. Oghren and Faren were both warriors, and that helped immensely what with Darkspawn crawling out of mostly everywhere.

The redhead groaned and sat up straight. She was about to look around, see what the others were doing, but was interrupted when someone placed their hand squarely on the top of her head and patted it.

"Go back to sleep, Leli. You need it."

She turned to Alistair, the one who had spoken to her. "Huh?"

The blond shrugged. "You fell asleep while on watch duty. Figured you were tired, so I let you rest."

 _Oh._

Leliana felt like smacking her forehead, but was too tired to do even that.

After days of traversing the Deep Roads and clearing thaig after thaig of Darkspawn with minimal sleep and food, a little exhaustion was the least of her worries.

Aedan had called to camp for a while and it was a decision met with unanimous approval. However, instead of setting up tents and dispersing, they had made a couple of fires on either side and sat in a huddle between them. Someone was always awake – Aedan or Alistair most of the time – and the others either slept or ate or chatted in between the two.

They had camped right in the middle of the Deep Roads. One could never be too careful while here, she had learnt.

The gentle warmth of the fires coupled with the intense exhaustion of drawing a heavy war bow innumerable times had made her lids heavy even as she sat next to Alistair, her back to the stone, and volunteered for watch duty. It wasn't a shock that she had drifted off, but she still felt bad for doing so.

It wasn't anything new, either. Leliana had succumbed to sleep many a time during the wee hours before dawn while on guard duty. She'd always woken to find Alistair, watchful as ever. Sometimes she even found him styling his hair. It was comforting, knowing that he was always vigilant, always there.

Sighing, the redhead stretched her arms and rubbed the nape of her neck, cracking it loudly. Alistair winced beside her.

"Must you make that scary cracking sound?" he asked quietly.

Leliana hummed and rolled her shoulders. She then fixed the man with a cheeky grin. "Scary, you say?"

A shrug. "Not _scary_ scary, obviously. Just the _'Holy Maker, that sounds like she broke something in there'_ kind although I know it doesn't."

The redhead stared at him for a good few seconds before breaking out in a chuckle. Alistair narrowed his eyelids. "I don't quite see what's so hilarious, you know."

That made Leliana laugh in earnest. She tried to keep it quiet so as to not wake the others who were asleep, but this was just too good! Only Barkspawn raised his head to look at her curiously from where he lay by Morrigan's feet.

"You're just really adorable sometimes," the bard said finally with a gentle smile after her giggling subsided. Alistair seemed miffed, though.

"I will wisely pretend you did not just say that after laughing your arse off at something I said." Alistair crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm still unaware what."

Leliana reached out and patted his cheek. "It's okay," she said soothingly. "You're a humorous person. I like that."

"I still want to be able to _know_ the jokes I crack."

Still smiling, the bard reached back with her hand and tried fruitlessly to squeeze the aching muscles of her shoulders into compliance. Everything from her shoulders to the small of her back groaned in protest. A slight grunt of frustration escaped her lips.

"Something bothering you?" Alistair asked, again catching her attention.

"Mmm. Just a backache. Nothing too serious."

"Huh. Turn around."

Leliana eyed him curiously, raising an eyebrow. The look earned her a sigh.

"Just do it," the man repeated. "I can help, Leli."

Still incredulous, she nonetheless turned and presented her back to him. "Help? Have you been learning the healing arts – oh... _oh mon Dieu..._ "

"Feels good, dunnit?" the man chuckled as his fingers curled around her collarbone and his thumbs dug into the skin surrounding her spine, giving her a little massage. "Told you I could help."

Prior to her rest, Leliana had taken off her maille shirt and the gambeson she usually wore beneath it. She was clad in only a tunic at present, and that gave Alistair all the freedom in the world to work his magic. The redhead moaned softly in relaxation and closed her eyes. The last time she had been given a massage was back at Lothering, almost four months previously. "Alistair, how-"

"How do I have the hands of a God? Why, I'll tell you," he said with a snicker as he worked down her back, pressing his thumbs along her spine and the rest along her flanks. "But damn, you're all rigid and knotted up back here."

Leliana didn't grace the observation with a response. More accurately, she couldn't. Leliana was too absorbed in the relief and pleasure which flooded her body. How could something as simple as a massage feel so _divine_?

"There's a great fuss amongst templars about keeping the mind and the body fluid, flexible and relaxed," Alistair was saying as his _glorious_ fingers retraced their path back up her spine. "We had to give massages and had them given to us and had to stretch before and after training. Helped with keeping the body in line. So I guess this is one thing I can do relatively well."

Soon, his fingers reached the cool skin of the nape of her neck and the redhead sucked in a breath. She had to lower her head to give him ample room to work, and he expertly moulded the sore muscles there.

Leliana caught herself thinking how his hands would feel on certain other part– _no, don't even think about that._

A loud, drunken hiccup brought her out her reverie.

"I call next," Oghren slurred, raising a flask of brandy towards them.

"Brilliant," Alistair muttered, finishing up with her neck and moving on to her arms. "Now I have to play masseuse to drunk dwarves. Could my life _be_ any better?"

"At least you're doing a good deed," Leliana said and rolled her neck before turning to face him, smiling. "But thank you. That indeed felt very good."

The blond merely waved it off. "Don't thank me for _that_ , at least. Just happy to help."

Her aches having subsided significantly, the bard resumed her previous position and leant back against the stone wall as Alistair went off to massage Oghren's back. She smiled warmly as the two bickered, even as the almost-templar rendered his services.

 _He is truly an amazing individual_ , she mused.

It was true as far as she was concerned. Wardens had an innate ability to sense the presence of Darkspawn, and down here in the Darkspawn infested Deep Roads, his senses must've been excessively overtaxed. As she had come to understand it, Aedan was a junior Warden, and a more recent member of the order whereas Alistair had been a part of it for about three quarters of a year. As such, his senses weren't as well developed as his brother Warden's.

On top of that, they had encountered the Archdemon for the first time in the flesh. That must not have been a very stellar experience for either man.

Leliana shuddered and pulled her knees up.

The Archdemon was a dragon, and a more hideous creature she had never seen before, not even in her wildest nightmares. The horribly mutilated, patched skin which resembled flesh more than it did scales, the excessively large fangs which dripped with some foul fluid... she shivered again at the recollection. And Aedan and Alistair were known to have nightmares _about_ the Archdemon; it _spoke_ to them in their dreams. _By the Maker, that screech would make anybody blanch._

And being confronted by one's nightmares was never a good thing. Yet both Aedan and Alistair stood tall, keeping all the fear tightly enclosed in their own minds, not showing anything they felt.

A few hours later now, one of them was sound asleep while the other was giving massages.

The goofy blond had well and truly won her respect.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Come in," came the curt reply from the other side of the door. Alistair grimaced, his hand on the door handle. With a shake of his head, he turned it and pushed the door open and took a couple of steps inside.

"Just wanted to check up," he said, not letting go of the door handle. Somehow, he felt like he was intruding. "You okay?"

Aedan sat on the edge of the bed, which was located at the far corner of the small room. His head was bowed, a wet towel draped over the back of it. His hands were on either side of him on the bed. It didn't go unnoticed by Alistair how his fingers clutched the mattress tightly at the question.

"I will be." Aedan didn't look up. "Thank you for checking up on me, though. I appreciate it."

Alistair shrugged and offered a small smile, not that Aedan could see. "It's what br- friends are for, right?"

He remembered how Aedan had been so adamant about going to look for his brother back when they had met at Ostagar. In all probability, Fergus Cousland was dead. Bringing that up would be underhanded, no matter how unintentional it might have been. _Especially now._

A dry chuckle escaped Aedan's throat. Might've been a grunt as well. "Yeah. It is, isn't it?"

"Will you be down for dinner?"

"Hmm. Yes. Probably. I don't know for certain."

"Just don't starve yourself is all I'm asking," Alistair said softly, and he thought he saw Aedan nod. _Good enough._ "I'll see you later, then?"

"You will."

"Alright, then."

Alistair retraced his steps back out and started to pull the door closed.

"Alistair?"

He stopped, poking his head inside enquiringly. Aedan was looking at him, a small smile on his face. "Thank you. I mean it."

The almost templar chuckled. "You're very welcome."

He then closed the door gently and leaned back against it, sighing deeply.

Everything had gone to shit after the Dead Trenches.

Alistair had heard of Broodmothers from Duncan and the other Wardens. He had heard how Darkspawn dragged live females down to the Deep Roads and transformed them into the hideous... things. These Broodmothers then gave birth to other Darkspawn. Human Broodmothers spawned Hurlocks, dwarven ones Genlocks, Elven ones Shrieks and Qunari ones Ogres.

Nobody had ever given him a description of a Broodmother, and even after seeing one live, he couldn't even bring into words what he had seen. Oghren provided the most apt description: "Too many boobs to be healthy." _Can't really disagree, either_.

What had scared him the most was the thought of losing Leliana or Solona or Wynne or even Morrigan to the Darkspawn. It scared him senseless. As much as the swamp witch irked his displeasure, he wouldn't wish that kind of fate on anybody. Arlessa Isolde came close, but making her a Darkspawn dispenser would be counterproductive. _But then again, that would give me an excuse to kill her. Huh..._

Heaving a sigh, Alistair pulled himself from leaning against Aedan's door and walked down the corridor to the room Wynne, Leliana and Solona shared. He lifted his hand to knock, but let it fall again, frowning.

The Broodmother had hit Solona the hardest psychologically. For a sheltered girl, and not even a Warden, to come face to face with something as monstrous as that, knowing full well that defeat meant being turned into something like _that_ , it must have been mind boggling. The girl had been pale ever since the day they had left Caridin's Cross, having foiled Branka's plan of turning dwarves into golems.

 _Are all the people we're going to meet down the road psychopaths or something? What is_ wrong _with this country?!_

Sighing again, he rapped on the wooden door with his knuckles softly and waited for a moment. Nothing happened.

"Are they asleep or what?" he muttered under his breath and knocked again, this time fractionally louder. But again, nothing happened.

"Don't bother, they're asleep. At least, they were when I left"

Alistair turned his head to find Leliana approaching him from the other end of the corridor, followed by Sten. Both were clad in full battle regalia.

Not wanting to accidentally wake the sleeping mages by talking right outside the door, Alistair started walking towards the bard. "Did you two go to war or am I missing something again?"

Sten replied with a grunt before heading into the room he shared with Alistair, and shutting the door quietly, making the almost templar stroke his stubble. "He seems to be in a worse mood than usual," he said.

Leliana chuckled softly and leant up against the wall beside the door.

"I was just helping him find his sword."

"The sword he lost when his mates were killed?"

"Yeap."

"Huh. And how'd you know you'd find it here? In Orzammar?"

The redhead shrugged. "Back when we visited the Circle, we ran into a scavenger who told us that he had sold off a longsword to a trader in Orzammar."

"And I'm guessing – and this has nothing to do with the disappointed Qunari grunt from a few moments ago – that you didn't find it here?"

"No. The trader here said that he'd sold it off to another person at Redcliffe."

"Redcliffe, eh?" Alistair said distractedly before sighing and shaking his head. _Forget about it._ "Say are you tired? D'you need rest?"

Leliana blinked. "I... no, not really. Why do you ask?"

"Well I thought since we're leaving Orzammar first thing tomorrow, I'd take a walk." He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "Just wanted to ask if you'd like to come along, is all."

It was much more than just a walk, but Alistair wanted it to be a surprise. _Now if only she doesn't refuse..._

And she didn't. Leliana smiled gently at him.

"Give me a moment while I go change, okay? I won't be more than five minutes."

 _Well. Better late than never._

But she wasn't late. True to her word, the bard slipped out of her room after having abandoned her chainmail and gambeson for a more comfortable light blue tunic and tan leggings. She had her daggers strapped to the hip, visible for all to see. Alistair found it somewhat scary how she never went anywhere unarmed.

"Shall we?" Leliana asked with a smile. Alistair nodded, and the pair made their way down the stairs to the bar, where they found Oghren chugging down ale, and then onwards to the streets of the Commons.

"So let me get this straight. Sten, the stoic and unsmiling Qunari extraordinaire, has asked you to help him find his old sword?" Alistair couldn't help but ask.

"He's not all big and stoic, you know? Sten has a very... dry sense of humour. And he's a softie."

"That last part. What's that about?"

"Mmmm. I found him picking flowers and shaking a piece of twine at a kitten."

Alistair burst out laughing, drawing looks from the dwarves. "Really now?"

The bard simply nodded. "The flowers he claimed were medicinal. He also claimed that he was training the kitten."

 _Oh Holy Maker..._

"That is beautiful! Beautiful!"

"Indeed. But you heard nothing of this from me."

He crossed his arms over his chest in a solemn salute. "I am sworn to carry your secrets to the grave, milady," he told her, earning a playful punch to the bicep.

Everywhere they went, the gazes of the citizens followed them. They both felt it. Some clandestine, others not so much. As far as Alistair was concerned, it was to be expected after all that had transpired. _Doesn't mean I have to get used to it._

Turning to Leliana, Alistair asked, "Still think Bhelen was the better choice?"

The bard offered a sad smile and reached out to give his upper arm a squeeze. She didn't say anything. That told Alistair all he needed to know.

Bhelen, with their support, had ascended the throne of Orzammar, and pledged his services to the Wardens. It was a big thing, having the dwarves back the campaign against the Blight. Faren and Oghren had even talked the Legion of the Dead into joining in. Which was all good.

The not so good part entailed Bhelen calling for the execution of the entire house of Harrowmont. Some five hundred dwarves, most of them having nothing to do with politics, were to be executed at the fastest convenient time because _King_ Bhelen felt that the Harrowmonts would cause problems for his rule down the line if they were spared. Besides, he needed to solidify his seat by setting a clear example.

Aedan had disagreed, and argued against it vehemently. He was the son of Bryce _bleeding_ Cousland, after all. Political smack talk was supposed to be his thing, but Bhelen had gently reminded him that the Wardens had no say in dwarven politics and that if he continued in this vein, he'd find himself without the support of the dwarven armies. Aedan had backed off at that. But he'd been bitter and depressed ever since. Alistair made a mental note to drag him down to dinner if he didn't show.

"So," Leliana asked after a short bout of silence. "Are we looking for golem dolls?"

"No, actually," Alistair replied as he strode down to Dust Town. Before she could prod him further, he decided to distract her with a question of his own. "How's Solona doing? Any better?"

"She _was_ shaken very badly," the bard answered after a while, rubbing her forearm absently. "I can't say I blame her."

Alistair hummed, locking his hands behind his back. "Yeah, I know. Believe me, it wasn't a pretty sight for any of us."

"Mmmm. Solona's had a fever for a day. Wynne has confined her to bed. She's getting better though. She just needs rest."

"Will she be up for travel in the morrow?" Alistair asked while scanning the area for Jerren, the dwarf with the best nugs in all of Orzammar. It _had_ been a week, after all. "Aedan doesn't want to hang around any longer than he has to, you know."

"She should be, I think. How _is_ Aedan, by the way?"

"Depressed, I think. But then again, I can't say I blame him much, either."

"True enough."

By this point, Alistair had led Leliana right to where he had encountered Jerren the last time, and with a sigh of relief, he noted that the dwarf was indeed there, leant up against a wall, with a rather plump nug sniffing his foot. The warrior immediately turned to Leliana, who in turn was looking straight at the nug, a soft smile on her face.

"You like that nug?" asked Alistair. Leliana didn't respond, but nodded vehemently. _Probably on the verge of squealing_ , he thought with a chuckle. Before responding to her, he looked over at Jerren again, who was grinning at him, and nodded once in acknowledgement.

"Guess what, Leli," he said cheekily. "It's yours."

There was pregnant pause while Leliana looked at him, blinked, looked over at the nug and then back at him again.

"I – what?"

The almost-templar sighed and placed his hand atop the girl's head, giving it a gentle pat. "That nug belongs to you. It's a gift. From me."

Alistair considered himself to be a humble person. He didn't have many wants, except for a steady supply of cheese for the rest of his life. But at that moment, when he saw Leliana's eyes widen and the stupefied expression on her face morph into an ear-to-ear grin, Alistair wished he could have preserved that image of her in the back of his mind for a long while yet.

That she engulfed him in a bear-hug soon after was an added bonus.

Leliana had her hands looped tightly around his waist, muttering what was babbled repetition of what sounded like: _"Je t'aime! Tu es tellement gentil! Merci! Merci beacoup! Les mots me manquent. Merci, merci!"_

He didn't understand a word, but he _really_ loved the accent. _I guess Orlesians_ do _have some things going for them._

Alistair had never in his life been hugged by a woman before. _A busty one at that_ , he thought with some _very mild_ embarrassment even as his face heated up more than what was normal. Everybody said how hugs were _nice_ and _wonderful_ , but nobody mentioned how to handle the breasts being squished against his chest. They were both clad in comfortable tunics, so the experience was more... _extreme_.

 _I mean, it feels nice how they are so soft and all but... why am I thinking about this? Why? Distraction. Distraction!Topless Oghren topless Oghren topless Oghren topless Oghren... by Andraste's flaming knickers, it actually works!_

His hands hovered awkwardly over her back and he wanted to return the hug, but was too scared to do anything. Instead, Alistair settled for patting the top of her head awkwardly.

The awkwardness didn't last very long – _thankfully_ – as Leliana released him and skittered off to greet her new pet. Alistair stood there, flabbergasted, for a little while, unsure of what to do about his flaming face. Or the way his body and mind chose to react. _Breathe deeply, Ali-bear. You can do it._

Jerren had come up to stand beside him, letting Leliana hug and squeal over the nug to her heart's content. Alistair sighed and dug into his coin purse.

"That your woman?"

The coin purse fell from Alistair's trembling fingertips.

"What? No! She's just a friend! A good friend. I know her well. Not _that_ well! Of course she's not my woman! That's preposterous! Asinine! That was the first time we've hugged even, for the Maker's sake!"

"Whoa whoa! Calm down there, buddy," the dwarf said with an amused chuckle. "That's too much information. I was just curious, that's all."

 _Riiiiight. False alarm._

Bidding his heart to stop hammering against his chest, Alistair knelt by his fallen pouch and counted out twenty silvers before depositing the coins into the palms of the dwarf.

"Thanks for the business, boss," Jerren said as Alistair rose to his feet.

"I should be thanking you, actually."

Just then, Leliana's voice could be heard from the distance: "He nips! You're hungry, aren't you? Ohhh look at him! He's snuffling me! Snooffle snooffle~!" This was followed by something of a cross between a girlish giggle and a squeal.

"You surfacers have weird fancies, taking a nug for a pet," Jerren muttered as he and Alistair both watched the redhead rub her face against the nug's. "Worth the silver?"

Alistair pondered on that one for a bit. True, Leliana was among the treasured few good friends he had. She was radiant and beautiful and was always trying to cheer people up. _Just really damn nice_. It was... a rarity, seeing something as beautiful as that amidst all the darkness.

Was paying twenty silvers to bring a smile to that person, to give her something she'd really enjoy and appreciate, worth it?

Taking in a deep breath, the blond man exhaled out of his nose, smiling as Leliana walked back towards them, carrying the nug in her arms, a big smile on her face.

"Damn straight."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

When Leliana sat herself down next to Alistair by the fire and handed him a steaming bowl of stew, the man accepted it gratefully and greeted her with, "Oghren asked if he could cook Schmooples again, didn't he?"

While it _was_ true that the drunk dwarf had asked on more than one occasion – ninety-seven times, in fact – Leliana was quite sure that she had kept her displeasure strictly to herself. If Alistair could see through her, then clearly she wasn't doing very well in that regard. Or he was more perceptive than she gave him credit for.

Some bard she was, unable to stop being an open book.

"How can you tell?"

"Oh, I overheard you talking while I went to spy on Morrigan, make sure she didn't poison my stew. You know how it is. Can't be too careful."

Despite her considerable frustration, Leliana breathed out a laugh.

"Poor sod probably misses his home," Alistair continued, shovelling spoonfuls of meat and vegetables into his mouth. "I was hesitant about trying some of the nug preparations, but I have to say, they were quite tasty. Especially those nug pancakes and nug-gets. Oh and there was this special dish where the nug was seared and dressed in a cream sauce flavoured with deep mushrooms. Delightful."

"You seem to have taken to dwarven cuisine quite readily."

"If it's food, my stomach can plough over it quite easily. That's one of the privileges of being Fereldan, I suppose. Have you eaten?"

Humming, Leliana brought her knees up and placed her elbows atop them, supporting her chin on her palms in turn. "I understand that seeing Schmooples reminds him of Orzammar, but this is a bit much. I miss Orlais too, doesn't mean I hound everybody to cook Orlesian meals."

"No, instead you fawn over shoes," Alistair supplied innocently. Then with a cough, he added: "Are you sure it's safe to leave Schmooples unsupervised? I mean, there _is_ a predator on the prowl, after all."

Leliana grunted. _So unladylike_. "I left him with Wynne and Solona. I have also bribed Faren to keep Oghren distracted."

"Now that was good thinking." The man spooned around the vegetables as he chewed on the beef. Then he asked, "You miss Orlais much?"

"Yes and no. I miss some things. Why?"

"You see I was thinking," Alistair said after slurping down some of the stew. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "In Orlais you'd speak a lot of Orlesian, yeah? I was thinking I should learn some."

Slowly, Leliana craned her neck around to look at her companion. She didn't quite know what to make of what he had just said. "Pardon?"

"I mean, what harm could it do? Nothing bad can come out of learning something new, right? There were a lot of longsword manuals of the Chevaliers in Redcliffe castle. I used to look at the pictures. Couldn't understand a word." He then jabbed his spoon at her face. "Besides, if we can both speak Orlesian, maybe you'd miss Orlais a little less."

Leliana smiled warmly and stopped herself from reaching out and squeezing his cheeks. He had very squeezable cheeks. "You are very sweet, Alistair. And quite thoughtful."

"It seems you're onto me now," he said and sighed dramatically. "Don't tell the others though. It'll be our little secret."

"But are you really serious about learning Orlesian?" she asked. "I thought you weren't fond of Orlesians?"

"Well, yeah." Alistair put down the finished bowl beside him. "But if I _know_ Orlesian, I can understand what all they're saying about me. Plus, I really want to swear in Orlesian."

 _Ah. That's more believable._

"So will you teach me, then?"

Leliana smiled and tousled his hair. "I can try to teach you some. I must warn you that I am no teacher."

"I'll take what I can get," he said eagerly and turned himself around to face her, like a pupil facing his teacher. The look of enthusiasm and concentration on his face was rather endearing. "Say, does my name change in Orlesian? Or does it remain the same?"

"No, no. Your name remains the same. It's your name, Alistair. You pronounce it the way you want."

"Okay okay," Alistair said and rubbed his palms together. "This is exciting. How do I introduce myself, then?"

"All right, repeat after me: Je m'apelle Alistair."

"Wait, what apple?"

Leliana laughed. "Not an apple, silly! Je m'apelle."

"What's that mean?"

"Literally, it means 'I am' or 'My name is'. Let's try again, yes?"

"Sure sure."

So she repeated herself, this time a bit slower so that he could grasp the pronunciation.

Alistair repeated quite seriously, "Zhe da peel."

Leiana's smile faltered slightly. She said, "Huh. That is not... _quite_ what I'm saying."

With a tilt of his head, Alistair replied, "It sounds exactly the same to me, though."

"Let's try breaking it down into syllables, okay? But really listen well."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Repeat after me: Je."

"Zhu."

"Mah."

"Mah."

"Pell."

"Pell."

Her smile returning, Leliana clapped. "Okay, that was great! Now faster. Ready?"

"You bet."

"Je."

"Zhe."

"Mah."

"Mah."

"Pell."

"Pell."

"Je m'apelle!"

"Lee puupuu!"

Leliana's smile vanished completely and she cradled her head in her hands. "Oh mon Deux."

And across from her came the response: "Oh De Foof."

It was too hard. The man was surely deaf? How could anyone muck up so badly at hearing and-

 _Take a deep breath._

She closed her eyes and inhaled through her nostrils.

 _Hold it in. Then exhale slowly._

Parting her lips, she exhaled and repeated the exercise a few more times.

Now calmer, Leliana thought back to the first time she went hunting with Marjolaine. She had shot and wounded a hart but was too afraid to track it and put it out of misery. She'd been impressed when Marjorlaine had done it for her. The older woman's resolve had made a mark on her that day, but had done nothing to assuage her guilt. She'd often compared herself to her mentor and that one incident always stood out as a personal failure; an incident where she had been unable to finish what she'd started.

 _In many ways, this mirrors that._

Alistair was her new injured hart. Disregarding his doe-eyed trusting nature – which was cute – she couldn't just leave him hanging in the middle of a lesson. _Teaching Alistair Orlesian is going to be my personal victory. So what if he's terrible? It's a challenge!_ And she was not one to shy away from a challenge.

Bringing her palms together, Leliana intertwined her fingers and brought them up to her forehead.

 _Long was his silence, 'fore it was broken._

' _For you, song-weaver, once more I will try._

 _To My children venture, carrying wisdom,_

 _If they but listen, I shall return.'_

With renewed vigour, Leliana straightened. "Alistair."

"Yes?"

Leliana placed her hands on his shoulders and felt him stiffen. She decided to ignore his little yelp of surprise.

"By the Maker, I'll have you speaking Orlesian by the end of the year," she declared, grinning widely.

"Umm..."

"I cannot abandon yet another injured hart!"

"What even..."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The disarmed mercenary latched onto the rim of Alistair's shield with both hands and spun it like the helm of a ship, trying to wrench it out of his grip. So Alistair let go of the handle and bemusedly let the man spin it around completely before he gripped it again and pulled it out of the man's surprised hands.

Such was the usefulness of boss-held round shields. Had it been the kind of shield where the arm was looped through a strap, the same twisting motion would have wrenched his elbow loose. Or something equally painful.

But that wasn't the case, and this allowed Alistair to punch the man with his shield hand, driving the rim of the shield diagonally into his face. A satisfying wet crunch was the result, and the man dropped like a recently cut tree.

 _Poor bastard_ , Alistair thought as he stepped around his fallen foe. _Probably a broken nose and a few broken teeth. I love you, shield. Okay, nex – holy hell!_

Greeted by the downward swing of a two-handed axe, Alistair had precious seconds to respond, and he did so by raising his shield and turtling behind it.

Alistair hated axes. Especially the big two-handed ones. They reminded him too much of the many afternoons spent chopping wood. Although it had been part of Templar training and had strengthened his back muscles considerably, the activity itself wasn't very fun.

 _You split shields the same way you split logs_ , his instructor had told him back then. Alistair had always doubted that. Now, as the axe's bit split his shield right down to the boss, he felt vindicated. It wasn't a very good feeling.

 _I don't ever want to feel vindicated again. Wait. Is that even a good thing?_

His faithful shield, though finally beaten, would still be of use. Being made of wood, it would trap the axe for a bit. He used that time to slap his opponent's helmet right over the left ear with his sword. Although the clang was far from sonorous, it gave Alistair and opening to unhand his shield, step in and smash his elbow across the bridge of the man's nose, dropping him.

It was for this reason that Alistair liked his opponents in open-faced helmets.

"Right," he muttered and turned around. The fighting had died down by then. It wasn't surprising, either. Their party _was_ a rather monstrous one. No band of mercenaries – Antivan Crow or no – stood a chance. The thought made him swell with pride, but then he looked at his shield and his face fell.

"Any injuries, Alistair? The girl _did_ catch you with a spell."

Wynne had made her way up to him, and being the resident healer of their brood, had posed the question like a field medic.

"Well, my shield died," he replied and took off his helmet. "The Stonefist destroyed most of the plates riveted to my front, so I'll have to ask about a new suit of brigandine. Other than that, I'm all right. Really." He sighed. "Guess who won't be helping out damsels in distress from now on, eh?"

It had all started when a woman had approached them on the road, stating she needed help and that bandits had ambushed her wagon. Moments later, said woman sent a fist of stone into his gut and their party was besieged by some elf calling himself an Antivan Crow.

The whole event reminded Alistair of why he wasn't overly fond of mages _. They can roast you or freeze you or both. What's there to like?_

But he liked Wynne. She was nice and grandmother-ish-esque. She teased him and pinched his cheeks fondly when he got flustered. Something a real grandmother would do. It was nice to experience that amidst all the chaos. Though he complained about it, Alistair rather looked forward to the cheek pinching. For someone who hadn't had a family, such moments were to be treasured.

So it was panic that he felt first when Wynne's eyes rolled up to the top of her head and her legs folded beneath her. Alistair dropped his helmet and knelt hurriedly to stop the elderly mage from hitting the ground.

"Wynne?" he patted her cheek. His voice must've gotten high-pitched for some of the others came running. Alistair didn't pay attention to them. "Hey, Wynne? Can you hear me?"

Though she didn't open her eyes, Wynne rubbed her forehead with a hand. "Unhh... I... fell..."

Alistair sighed in relief. "Incredibly observant as that is, are you all right?"

This time, he was certain he heard her snort. Wynne reached out and pinched his cheek. "Yes, quite. But for a moment... I thought it was all over."

"Thought _what_ was over?"

Leliana's voice.

"Everything," Wynne replied and opened her eyes. She smiled wanly at Alistair and the others. "I will... I will explain everything at camp. Now is not the time. For now, I think I just need to rest a while."

"Give her some breathing room, people. Let Solona handle this." Aedan's voice this time. "And Alistair, I want to have a word with you."

"Take care of her," Alistair muttered to Solona and got up. Aedan was sitting against a rock, while Sten and Oghren kept watch of the elf. "You okay?"

A shrug. "Few cuts and scrapes. I'll live. What about you? You're the one who took a boulder to the gut."

"Yes, well, we Fereldans tend to have _strong stomachs_."

"That was horrible."

"I regret nothing."

Aedan sighed. "Well if you can joke about it, then you're going to be all right. What about Wynne?"

"She just sort of... fell? I think it was exhaustion, personally."

"Could be. She _is_ old. Think she'll be all right?"

Alistiar stroked his chin and said, "Well, she was talking and even pinched my cheek." _But the bit about explaining seems scary._ "Anyway, what'd you want to talk to me about?"

Aedan flicked his thumb over his shoulder at the unconscious elf. "Him."

"What about him?"

"I think it's very likely that Loghain hired him. Either him or Howe."

"Oh I don't doubt that, but the thing is," he rubbed the back of his neck, "the Crows don't really operate like this, you know? They're assassins, not a mercenary army. They won't just charge like the light brigade."

Aedan clapped his palms together and pressed his forefingers to his lips. "Exactly. My sister-in-law is... _was_ Antivan." His jaw tensed for a moment. "I've heard stories."

"So what do you want to do?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Aedan said and turned to look over at Oghren. "Wake him, Oghren. We're going to interrogate him."

At this, the dwarf gleefully walked up to Alistair and handed him his axe. "Hold this, bub. Lemme show you soddin' surfacers how we dwarves wake up our prisoners for questioning."

 _Okay?_

With that, Oghren walked up to the elf, pulled down his pants, sat down on his haunches and farted.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Leliana drew the string back to under her earlobe and then released. The arrow flew straight and after a few short moments, she heard the faint sound of the shaft hitting the tree trunk.

Even so, she asked, "Did I get it?"

"Yes," replied Faren. "Very good."

Smiling, she slid another arrow shaft out of her quiver and nocked it. "I'm ready."

After a while, she heard the tapping of wood on wood: Faren slapping a tree trunk with a stick. This time slightly to her left.

She turned her head to the right, thereby pointing her left ear towards the sound. Three faint taps. Then silence.

Drawing the string as she turned the bow towards the sound, she loosed again. The arrow hit the tree after a few short moments and Faren said, "And that makes twenty shots."

Leliana reached behind her head and pulled the blindfold off of her eyes. It had been a while since she had practiced this particular skill of hers. She'd surprised many of the party members in the Deep Roads by using only hearing. Down in the subterranean realms where all was dark, vision couldn't solely be trusted.

The dwarf walked up to her, carrying the broken shafts of the loosed arrows. He said, "Good thing the shafts didn't have heads on 'em. Be a waste otherwise."

Faren Brosca, though quiet most of the time, had opened up to a few over time. He was an intelligent sort, but liked keeping to himself. Leliana was just glad to have made a new friend. Between Faren and Alistair looking out for Schmooples, Oghren hadn't been able to roast her poor baby.

"It's why I bought only shafts," she replied as she unstrung her bow. "It's a perishable skill, just like everything else. Can't really use this in a spar, can I?"

"Very true, good woman. Archery as a skill, as wondrous as it is, _is_ rather difficult to use in a duel, no matter how splendid the archer's form. Might I also add that your form is splendidly delicious to behold."

Leliana sighed and looked up at the branch from which Zevran had commented. "I'll choose not to comment on that."

"Ah, but you already have!" He slid off the branch and landed noiselessly on the grass, heels to rear and knees to chin. "This is most fortuitous, to engage such a charming lady in conversation."

She swore she could _feel_ Faren roll his eyes. In all honesty, Leliana did not blame him.

The latest addition to their group was slightly... unusual. Zevran had pledged his services to the Wardens in exchange for sparing his life but not everybody took this very well. Everybody, even Morrigan, was more on guard now that the elf was on board. While their mistrust wasn't misplaced, Leliana personally thought Zevran wouldn't try anything to sabotage them. Unsurprisingly, she was the only one in the party who had spoken in favour of having him join.

The times when he endlessly flirted with her, however, made her question her decision making skills.

Gathering up her bow, string and quiver, Leliana frowned at the smirking elf. "What do you want, Zevran?"

"Must you insist that I have ulterior motives for even engaging you in stimulating conversation, my good woman?"

"Definitely."

The assassin placed his hands over his heart and staggered backwards a few steps, as if injured. "You wound me with your piercing words, good woman... such pointed words do suit an archer of your bearing, however."

"Well, if you have nothing to say, I'm sure you'll excuse me. Come Faren. Let us head back to camp," Leliana said and shouldered past Zevran, who immediately spun on the balls of his feet and followed her.

"Now now, hold on a moment. I merely had a question."

"Oh really?"

"Indeed so. If you would indulge my curiosity, why did you argue in my favour when everybody else wanted nothing to do with me? Were you so enamoured by my beauty, I wonder?"

"You're actually being serious right now, aren't you?" Faren asked incredulously.

Zevran threw up his hands in the air. "Everybody here is so mistrustful. I didn't even kill anybody."

 _I have to admit, though. He makes for rather amusing conversations._

"I thought you could be useful," Leliana replied as she walked. "You know how the Crows work, so you can watch out for any more attempts. On top of that, we have proof now that Loghain wanted us neutralised so badly that he stooped to hiring assassins. Your word might help our position if ever a situation arises where we have to defend ourselves against his accusations."

"I should say here that hiring the Crows is standard practice in Antiva and not considered stooping of any kind dear woman. If anything, Fereldan values are strange." Zevran appeared thoughtful. "Nowhere else have I heard of any customs relating to farting in the faces of one's prisoners."

"I think that's more Oghren's policy than Ferelden's," Faren muttered.

Ignoring the discussion about farting, Leliana quickly said, "On top of that, Zevran, I thought you were similar to me."

Zevran perked up at that. "Other than our purity and beauty, you mean?"

"We both spent many years in places other than Ferelden. You are an assassin, and I, a bard."

"Ah, I see. Then you were called upon to kill, I take it."

Leliana didn't answer for a while. She could see the camp's fire beyond the vegetation and hear some disjointed pieces of conversation. "Often. I didn't like it, but I did it anyway."

"You didn't like it? You didn't like the thrill of the hunt?"

"I suppose... I did like that. The hunt, I mean. Not the killing."

They entered the clearing and Leliana saw Alistair bent over the cooking spit. The warrior and she had not spoken much for a couple of days following the debate regarding Zevran's fate. He'd been wholly against his joining. She missed speaking with him.

Zevran said, "The killing just signals the end of the hunt. Without it, the chase goes on." After a pause: "You killed your marks cleanly, I hope."

"Whenever possible."

"Good." The elf nodded. "When the prey is caught, it deserves a good death, a clean death."

Leliana only nodded at that and waved at Faren who made for his tent.

"Perhaps you are right; we have much in common," Zevran said quietly and then grinned. "I thank you for explaining your intentions to me, good woman. Now, I shall leave you be and pester you again tomorrow. You must be tired."

With that, he turned and walked to his own tent.

Leliana decided to rest her eyes for a bit. She'd be woken when dinner was done anyway. And perhaps the next morning, she'd try and make amends with the almost templar.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Alistair's mind was disquiet. Which he thought was normal, considering the events of the previous night.

During dinner – which he had painstakingly made to the best of his ability – Wynne addressed everybody in the party and told them about her... _condition_. She'd apparently died in the Tower of Magi and a benevolent Fade spirit had possessed her body, thereby bringing life to her. However with time, the spirit's power was fading and when it completely faded, the mage would drop dead.

The way she'd collapsed three days ago had been a sign that the link was indeed weakening.

Being a Warden, Alistair knew full well that the journey they were on would see casualties. The fact that they'd made it as far as they had without losing anybody was in itself miraculous. He went to sleep at night knowing that a scenario where people within the party would die was incredibly probable.

But that wasn't why he was upset currently.

The young man had not slept. First watch had been his and Sten's and afterwards, he'd lain awake in his tent. As soon as the eastern sky had lightened, he'd taken his sword and gone off into the woods. Aedan and Oghren had second watch and not a word had been exchanged between them as he left camp. They understood.

The party had camped on the western fringes of the great Brecilian forest. Many legends surrounded the forest. Legends about ghosts and spirits of long dead warriors walking the forest still. Many wars had been fought at the place and many people had died. _Wouldn't be surprised if the bastards still walked around._

Originally, he'd meant to meditate. The quiet stillness of the forest was a good place for meditation, but with the mental turmoil he was currently in, he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate enough.

So he did something equally soothing. He practiced his forms.

Alistair took his stance: knees slightly bent, body turned to present a smaller target, right palm open and outstretched hand level with his shoulder and left palm hovering under his chin. He then dropped his right hand and brought his left palm up to the right, as if slapping away an invisible blow. Then he brought his right arm back while pulling away his left, this time blocking another imaginary blow before kicking off the ground with his right leg, bending his torso backwards a little and thrusting out with his foot, as if kicking his foe in the gut with a straight kick.

Then he immediately went back to his original guard position, one hand outstretched and the other held back, as if waiting for an incoming attack. When he felt it was coming, Alistair leaned into it, reaching out with his left hand and clasping his hands in mid-air, as if catching his opponent with the clasped hands behind their head. Thus trapped, the foe had nowhere to go, and Alistair raised his left knee and drove it into the ribcage.

He didn't retreat, however. He had the bastard on the defensive and he knew it. Now he had to set the rhythm for the match and end it.

Still having his opponent trapped, Alistair turned moving his opponent with him in a semi-circular arc from right to left, using the balls of his feet to turn himself. Once turned, the opponent would be unbalanced and Alistair released his head, spinning at the waist and driving his left elbow into his temple, sending him sprawling to the ground.

He'd get up. He always did. He was tough. He was the Hero of River Dane. His martial prowess was the stuff of legends.

And he did get up. He came at him, only Alistair was waiting. It was a scything kick aimed for his left flank, which Alistair caught by looping his arm around the incoming shin, then nailing a vicious palm-up punch straight into Loghain's stomach. He let Loghain's leg go, and the Hero staggered back, clutching at his injured stomach.

 _Time to press the advantage._

Alistair took a step forward and closed the gap. He wouldn't let Loghain slip away, _no sir_.

As he closed the distance, Alistair brought his arms back and twisted to his right at the waist, winding his body like a spring in a Dwarven clock, before twisting his torso to the left, at Loghain, and striking out with an open palm strike over the heart of Loghain, while his hovering left forearm enabled him to elbow the whoreson in the solar plexus.

Then he immediately drew himself back, preparing for the next attack. For Loghain would not go down with just that. He would get back up. He would come for more.

He always did.

And he didn't disappoint.

As Loghain came at him with straight thrust kick, Alistair spun on the ball of his left foot, turning his body in a half circle to the left so that his right side now faced the incoming kick. In turning, Alistair had spun out of the trajectory of Loghain's kick and closed the distance. Which meant he only had to raise his right elbow and Loghain's sternum would crash into it just as he looped his left arm around the outstretched leg.

Having trapped the right shin, Alistair swept Loghain's left foot and sent him down to the ground on his back.

 _Checkmate_.

Then, he spread his legs and folded his knees, bending forward slightly as he dropped his fisted hands into Loghain's chest and stomach respectively, forcing the wind out of the man and ending the fight.

Alistair then swiped the sweat from his brow with a thumb and looked up at the sky through the dense foliage, hands on his hips.

"The sun hasn't even risen yet," he said aloud.

Time was a funny thing, he decided. Sometimes it flew by too quickly and sometimes it just couldn't pass fast enough. Perhaps it was confused about what it wanted to do in life.

He was about to remove his tunic and use it as a makeshift towel, but stopped when he heard rustling in the brush to his right. Alistair stopped and stared for a moment. Whatever it was, the creature was big. _Probably a wild dog or boar, judging from the noise_. It wasn't disguising its movement.

Alistair spied his sword, which was leant up against a nearby tree. _Unsheathed_ , _thankfully_. The rustling got louder and he took a step towards his weapon.

When Leliana walked into the clearing with a bow in one hand and three rabbits in the other, Alistiar breathed a sigh of relief. "It's only you."

The rogue tilted her head in surprise. "Alistair? What are you doing up so early?"

Alistair pulled up his tunic and wiped his face free of sweat with it. "Couldn't sleep," he replied as he straightened. "Thought I'd get some exercise."

"Oh. I see."

They hadn't spoken in a while. Ever since the debate regarding letting Zevran join. While he knew full well that they needed all the help they could get, recruiting someone who had tried to kill them was where Alistair drew the line.

Though he hated how awkward their conversation now seemed, he didn't really know how to make it better. Leliana was a friend. _A good friend_. They'd connected easily right from when they'd met at Lothering. He'd had some initial... reservations about her, though. What with all the talk of the Maker having spoken to her in a dream.

 _I've had reservations about most of the people who've joined us. Huh._

Still didn't mean he approved of Zevran.

 _Right. Conversation. Leliana._

He pointed at the rabbits that hung by her side. "Breakfast?"

"Yes," the woman answered. "I woke up early and decided to go for a hunt. I haven't in so long that I really wanted to give it a try again. I'm glad I got something to show for it."

"Well, it's a change. We've been chomping on fruits and eggs for almost a half year now." Alistair turned away from her and sheathed his word. "Going back to camp?"

"Mhmm. Will you be here a while? Exercise?"

"I really don't know." He paused. "Maybe. For a while. You go on ahead. I'll be there in a while," he said over his shoulder.

In truth, he wasn't really ready to face Wynne again. Not yet.

"Alistair? Are you all right?"

Caught off-guard, Alistiar turned around. "Of course. Why?"

"Is it about what Wynne said?"

 _Completely disregards the lie_. "You're _really_ good at this game, huh?"

When Leliana didn't reply, he rubbed the back of his neck. "How'd you know?"

"The tone of your voice. It's a good indicator of how you're really feeling."

Alistair sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look. I know that everyone dies, okay? You don't have to tell me that. What has me worried more is the fact that a Fade spirit is keeping her alive. I mean, what if it's a malevolent demon in benevolent clothing? What if Wynne turns into an abomination?" He looked at her. "Among us all, who do you think is best suited to take an abomination down?"

Leliana had nothing to say to that.

"See? It's one thing accepting death and another thing entirely preparing oneself to put someone else – a friend at that – down." Alistair rubbed his face with his palms. "Maker, Leli. I've lost every _fucking_ person I've ever held dear. I thought I was over this whole thin-"

He stopped short when Leliana hugged him, surprised. Somewhere during his moaning, she'd dropped her bow and the rabbits and he hadn't even noticed. The redhead had her shoulders tucked beneath his and her fingers linked around the small of his back. Her head came up to his throat, and she placed her cheek upon his chest.

"Not everyone," she whispered.

Alistair dropped his hands from his face to his sides.

"Wynne has been a mage long before you and I were born, Alistair. I'd trust her knowledge of the Fade," she continued. "Not to say that your conclusion is an impossibility. But I think you're worrying too much. If such a situation arises, we'll all deal with it." She pulled away slightly to look up at him. "Consider this: We are dealing with darkspawn, Alistair. Any one of us could get tainted. It's a very real possibility. Could be me or Solona or Morrigan or Sten... anybody. What would you do then?"

He looked away.

"Personally, I think the best thing we can do for Wynne now is to make sure she has no regrets. That when her time comes, she can pass along happy." Alistair looked down to find her smiling wistfully. "Don't you think?"

Nodding, Alistair said, "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be nice." Then his sighed and placed his right palm atop Leliana's head and smiled. "And thank you. For that. I needed a talking to. I would've talked to you before but..."

At that, Leliana shook her head. "It's okay. I'm just glad you talked." Then she let go of him. "So we're friends again?"

Alistair laughed. "Oui. That'll never change."

"Good. I'm glad," Leliana offered a warm smile after picking up her bow and her quarry. "Now do you want to exercise some more or come to camp? I'm making breakfast. Rabbit stew, cooked Orlesian style."

"You know what, food sounds _really_ good right now. I'll work it off later, eh?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"I see you're all giggly and happy," Alistair said without even turning to look at her. She grinned sheepishly and went up to stand beside him by the halla pen.

"Since when have you grown eyes on the back of your head?"

The man was leaning forward on the fence, looking at the grazing animals, chewing on a wedge of halla cheese.

He shrugged. "Since your bad habit of sneaking up on me won't go away, I have developed a very keen sense of hearing. My inheritance from the flying Andrastian dogs that brought me up, you know?" He chuckled at that and shook his head. Then turned to look at her. "Anyway, I heard you humming and skipping on your way here. Something good happen?"

Leliana tucked a coil of her hair behind her ear and leant back on the fence, keeping her elbows propped up on the wood. She placed her right foot on the lowest rung and relaxed. She blew out a breath and then smiled at him.

"I did a good thing."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "You end the Blight while I was feeding the halla carrots? In which case consider me very thoroughly impressed."

Breathing out a laugh, Leliana slapped his bicep with the back of her hand. "No, silly. I talked to Gheyna for Cammen. They're together now."

"Cammen? The boy who was one step away from becoming a drunk poet and composing a ballad for his beloved?" Leliana nodded. Alistair looked back at the halla. Took a bite out of his wedge of cheese. "Depriving the world of more drunk poetry, Leliana? You truly are an agent of the Maker."

Leliana snorted and tilted her head back and peered at the puffy, cottony clouds flitting across the clear sky. There was a cool breeze blowing, signalling the coming of winter. How long had it been since she had left Lothering? Months, definitely, though it seemed much shorter.

Alistair's question put an end to her reminiscing. She turned towards him. "Hmm?"

"I asked how you did it. Bring them together."

"Oh." She pursed her lips, thinking on her answer. "Nothing much. I just... changed their perspective on things."

Alistair gave her a blank look. Didn't say anything. So she started to explain.

"Well, Gheyna wouldn't bond with Cammen because he was still an apprentice, right? And Cammen couldn't hunt because of two reasons." She pressed the tip of her thumb into the bottom two ridges on her little finger to count them off. "Firstly, they're not allowed to go inside the forest because of the werewolf attacks. And secondly, you need to have a clear mind when you're hunting. Fully concentrated at the task at hand. You have to be wary of the wind direction, animal calls, not stepping on twigs and giving away your position, all the while tracking your quarry. Then comes taking a position and actually shooting." She shook her head. "Can't do all that if your mind's elsewhere. And Cammen was always worrying about his failures in wooing Gheyna. He put a lot of pressure on himself. Raised the stakes too high. Couldn't handle it."

Alistair nodded along. "Right. I think I remember the girl saying something about him cocking up the hunt every time."

Leliana nodded in turn. "Mhmm. When I told Gheyna that I had spoken to Cammen, d'you know what she did?" Alistair shook his head. "Her eyes widened and she smiled. Wanted to know what Cammen had said. Rather, what he said _about her_. In other words, what he said was important to her. His opinion mattered." She paused a beat. "I just felt something there, Alistair. She was interested in him, but couldn't bring herself to bond with an apprentice. So I told her that if she gave Cammen a chance, if she _really_ felt something for him, his station in life really shouldn't be a factor. Eventually, she realised that her rejection had made him miserable, and that was why his hunts never went well. She decided to bond with him, help him get a higher station in life."

By then, Alistair had finished with his cheese. He said, "What'd you do for the Chantry, Leli? Matchmaking?"

She laughed and returned her gaze to the sky. The sun had half disappeared beyond the horizon. It dropped faster now. Fractionally. As soon as it set, the cold would envelop them.

A lone halla trotted up to them, and Alistair reached out and patted it between the ears and stroked its forehead. Leliana watched on. She hadn't ever been that close to halla before.

Sensing her curiosity, Alistair said, "They're like horses for the most part. Just stronger and smarter. I named her Fiona. She's my newest friend."

"It's a she?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Didn't know myself. The halla keeper woman, Elora I think her name was, told me. This one was all jittery and shaky. She couldn't tell what the matter was. So I calmed her down. The Elora girl is able to communicate with them, see? Understand what's going on with them. She couldn't do it while Fiona was acting all cuckoo." He chuckled when the beast licked his hand.

Leliana turned and faced the halla. She inched a bit closer to Alistair. "So what was the problem?"

Alistair's gaze softened. "She was worried," he said while stroking the halla's forehead. "There was a werewolf attack. Her life-mate was affected. Diseased, probably. She was scared for him, and all her thrashing about made Elora think that she was the one who was sick." He was silent for a moment. "You were right. It's all about perspectives in the end."

She smiled. "How'd you know how to calm her down?"

He shrugged. "Animals respond to kindness. You forget, I used to be a stable-boy. I'm used to taking care of horses. You talk to them nicely and pet them, that's all they need, really. Mostly." He grinned at her. "You want to try your luck with Fiona?"

That, Leliana was uncertain about. Outside of hunting, and Schmooples, of course, she'd had little experience with animals.

"Are you sure that is a good idea, Alistair?" she asked warily. "These are proud creatures. It's almost like they know how special they really are. Would she let me touch her?"

Grinning, Alistair turned to the halla and said, "Fiona, meet Leliana. She's a good friend of mine. Will you let her pet you?"

The halla turned to look at Leliana. Looked right into her eyes. Then she took a few steps towards her, and lowered her head gently. Almost like a curtsy.

Hesitantly, she placed her palm on the halla's forehead, then patted it. The fur tickled her a bit.

Leliana looked at Alistair, unsure of what to do. He just smiled. "Down the forehead, along the sides, right to the muzzle."

So she did. Lightly grazed her hands down the sides of Fiona's face, but when she reached the muzzle, the halla's nostrils flared and she expelled a deep, quick breath, startling the redhead. Leliana jerked away from the fence in surprise and Alistair burst out laughing.

"What-what-what happened?" she asked him, trying to get over her surprise.

Alistair, still chuckling, reached out and stroked the halla's neck.

"She sniffed you, Leli, that's all. Familiarised herself with your scent," he told her. "Want to try again?"

By then, the surprise had melted away and been replaced with embarrassment. Leliana felt her cheeks heat up. "Later, perhaps."

"Perhaps," Alistair said. "Beautiful animals, though. Shame they get hunted so much, you know? For the antlers." He rubbed Fiona's forehead and then backed away from the fence. The halla bobbed her head a few times, and then went back to join the herd.

"After all this is over, I'd like to run a halla ranch," he declared suddenly, watching the herd. Leliana looked at him curiously.

"Why?"

"For the cheese, of course," he replied readily. "Have you tasted it? It's great. It's got a very distinctive stench about it, but it's really good. With a ranch, I'll have enough cheese to last a lifetime. Probably make a cottage out of cheese, I don't know. Maybe I'll sell some. Like a business." He grinned at her and spread his arms wide. Looked up at the sky. "I'll be the richest megalomaniacal cheese-magnate in all of Ferelden! Cheese for everyone! Mwahahahaha!"

Leliana covered her face with a hand and giggled. "It's something to consider," she admitted as they started walking towards camp. Then something struck her. "Do you usually wonder what you'll do after the Blight, Alistair?"

He shook his head. "Not really, no. Between crazy mages, crazy dwarves and now crazy werewolves, I've been pretty preoccupied. Life's never boring as a Warden, that's for sure."

"Is that the recruiting slogan, then? 'Join and forget boredom'?" she asked with a smirk.

Alistair laughed. "Really persuasive, isn't it? But I don't know. I rather enjoyed being a Warden. While it lasted." He shrugged. "Halla farm doesn't sound so bad either."

Leliana said nothing.

The sun had set by then, leaving the sky with only a dark-blue tint. The cold was creeping up on them. A sudden strong wind rustled the treetops, making the nesting birds chirp with renewed urgency. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the melancholic song of the nightingale. Her heart stilled.

Times like these, all she wanted to do was sit down and take in the beauty that nature had put on display for her.

Leliana ran her fingers through her hair absently. It had gotten long, reaching her shoulders now. She smiled to herself. "I need to cut it when we get to a town."

They'd reached their camp. The Dalish had shared their grounds with their party, which meant that for once, she wouldn't have to stay up for guard duty. She was looking forward to dinner and full night's rest before entering the forest in the morning.

"I don't know," Alistair said. Leliana looked at him, confused. He shrugged. "The longer hair looks good on you, I think."

He said it easily, without an air of presumption. A simple sentence. Nine words only.

Enough to send her heart hurtling into her rib cage, leaving her almost breathless for a few short seconds.

"Perspective, is all. Like you said." He shrugged good-naturedly. "Anyway, I'm going to go make sure Morrigan doesn't poison my food. You know how it is."

She nodded mutely.

"Be seeing you in the morning, Leli," he said and flashed her a grin. " _Bonne nuit_." Then he walked ahead to the camp's cooking area and patted Lucien's head on the way. Then he got into an argument with Oghren.

Leliana stood there for some time by herself in the shadows. She anxiously twirled her hair till her blush died down.

She wondered what in the world had just happened.

* * *

 **A/N: I confess, I was surprised at the steady climb in followers. To those who don't know, this story was just a plot bunny I couldn't ignore anymore. As such, it was never meant to be my top priority. This story was not planned and I hardly put any effort into writing it. Yet, it was very well received. People liked it and I was surprised by the sheer amount of feedback this story has gotten. I'm glad I could entertain you all, seeing as how 2016 turned out to be a pretty shit year. Yeah. Fuck 2016.**

 **Anyway, to all those who read this story, thank you very much for doing so. Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it, and here's to a crappy new year. Happy holiday**!


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Among the things Alistair had expected to fight when he took his oaths as a warden, trees were the farthest thing from his mind. Trees possessed by demons at that.

Nothing surprised him anymore. It was as if everything that could go wrong usually did go wrong whenever they were concerned. He huffed. _We'll have rainbow pooping pink unicorns next._

The man poked the crackling fire before him with a stick listlessly. He reflected on everything that he had come across on his journey thus far, and the world just... disappointed him.

From Howe to Loghain to Uldred to Branka... it was a sad tale. Once great people, fallen from grace for various reasons. It was a depressing time for Ferelden. It was a dark time for all of Thedas. What was worse was that the eyes of every nation were on Ferelden because of the Blight. If Ferelden fell under the weight of all the shit that was going on, then, well...

He rubbed his face tiredly. Ostagar seemed so long ago now. He wondered why Loghain did what he did. He wondered why Howe did what he did. Had they won at Ostagar, he wouldn't have had to put up with everything he had. He could still be with the Wardens, with Duncan. He could've been happy with the family he'd made for himself.

 _But then..._

Alistair turned to his right and observed the sleeping figure beside him. She was sitting, with her head leant back against the bark of a tree, legs spread out before her and her bow on her lap. Her red hair fell like a curtain over the left side of her face. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically. He smiled to himself and turned back to the fire.

If Ostagar hadn't happened, he wouldn't have met her. Or Aedan. Or Wynne, Solona, Faren, Bodahn and Sandal, Sten, Oghren... even Zevran and Morrigan he supposed. He shrugged to himself. _This is my family now, for better or worse. They're what keeps me going._

Good things came from bad things and bad things from good. It was cyclical. He knew that now. There was always something more fucked up around the corner, waiting to pounce on them.

Alistair looked around at the forest, watching the shadows dance in the firelight. It was quiet, for the most part. The crickets chirped, the owls hooted, the halla barked and the leaves rustled. It unnerved him sometimes, having never camped out in a forest before. The atmosphere was eerie.

In the distance, a wolf howled. A long call. When it died down, another took up its call. Then another and another. Soon enough, it seemed as if the hills were alive with the sound of howling.

Alistair kept his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword. Just in case. He wasn't experienced enough to tell whether the wolves were actually werewolves.

"Such haunting music they make, no?"

He started, but succeeded in biting back his urge to yelp. He turned to see Leliana grinning sleepily at him.

"You were awake?" he asked crossly. "How long were you awake? And how many times have I told you to not startle me?"

Leliana chuckled as she rubbed the sand from her cuticles. Then she sat up straight and stretched, purring slightly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Alistair dropped his chin into his palm and grunted. _Blasted Orlesians._

"Sleep well?"

"Indeed. The song of the forest woke me."

"The what?"

She placed her bow in the space between them and drew up her knees. Wrapped her arms around them and placed her cheek on her knees, turning to look at him.

"The forest... how you say... it sings to you. In its own language. You can hear it only if you make the effort to listen." She smiled. "It's a romantic thought, I think."

He wouldn't know about that. So he turned back to the fire. "Huh."

"Alistair?"

"Mmm?"

"Is something the matter?"

Nothing surprised him anymore. "You can tell, eh?"

"Mhmm. You seem tense. Preoccupied."

With a sigh, Alistair sat up straight and locked his fingers behind his head. He looked up at the sky. It was overcast.

"The world just seems so... bleak. You know what I mean? Howe served in the war against Orlais. Loghain is basically a hero to everybody. Branka was a Paragon. All good people at some point, but then something happened and they just... became someone else. Or they were always this way." He sighed. "I don't know whether the Blight influences negative behaviour either. At this stage, right now, I'd be willing to believe it."

He was silent a while, gathering his thoughts. Leliana didn't speak.

Alistair said, "We've done some solid good, we have. I think so, anyway. But sometimes I think whether that's enough, you know what I mean? Like, what if everything we do isn't enough? What if something bad happens and sends one of us over the edge? I know Aedan is basically there. If he even sees Howe, he'll snap. He's been one step away from the abyss ever since Bhelen butchered the Harrowmont house." Another pause. "It's just... with everything bad happening, I wonder if we'll be impervious to the negativity. It just feels so bloody hopeless sometimes."

He dropped his hands upon his thighs and fell silent. Self-doubt had always been an accompanist in his life and the Wardens had very recently beaten it out of his system. Now, however, it came back with a vengeance. Usually, he could suppress it, but it needed an outlet. Like all emotions.

Leliana moved her bow to her other side and slid up beside him, her shoulder touching his tricep. Alistair looked at her. She seemed thoughtful.

"In Orlesian, we say _merveilleux malheur_." Leliana focused her gaze on the fire. "Sometimes, bad things will happen to you. They happen to us all. But you use it. And the path you will take will be better than the path you will have taken had you not suffered." She placed her head on his shoulder and looked up at him. "Does that make sense?"

It did make sense. Undeniably so, but Alistair was in no shape to form a response. He was acutely aware of the closeness he now shared with the redhead. He was aware of her hair brushing against his cheek, her breath on his neck. He himself felt breathless, and a little faint. He prayed fervently to Andraste to not let Leliana see his blush.

He knew she was just trying to comfort him – like she would _any friend_ , he reminded himself – but her efforts had a completely different effect on him. One that wasn't entirely unwelcome...

 _Thank you, Bournshire, for teaching me all about women._

With great effort, Alistair cleared his throat, regulated his breathing, and offered her a smile. "Thank you," he said.

Leliana smiled back, and Alistair's own smile faltered. He gulped. From that range, her smile was basically blinding. He hoped he wasn't sweating.

"Don't mention it," she replied and returned her head on his shoulder.

Alistair didn't know whether to laugh or cry. On the one hand, no woman had ever done that to him before. It made him want to squirm his way out of there and run for the hills.

But on the other hand, _Leliana has her head on my shoulder what is going on this feels great ooh her hair smells nice no stop thinking argh whatdoIdowhatdoIdowha-_

"Alistair?"

A sudden chill ran down his spine, giving him a severe case of gooseflesh. Maker, he didn't know how to react to her soft voice _so bloody close_ to his ear!

"I – y-yes?"

A pause. "Back in Lothering... did you think me insane, spouting what I did about having received a vision from the Maker?"

That gave him pause. More than anything, he was grateful for the distraction from his earlier sequence of thoughts. His shoulders lost the tension and he relaxed somewhat as his mind wandered, thinking back to the day which seemed so long ago now. He shook his head.

"Honestly? I didn't think Chantry sisters could fight like that. I've grown up in the Chantry and no old biddy there could fight like you, so I was confused first, sceptical second." He shrugged. "Yeah. I did think you were sort of bonkers. I think my exact words to Aedan were that you were one archdemon short of a Blight."

She laughed at that. It was a nice sound. Sonorous. "What changed your mind? Why did you let me join you, then?"

"Your pleas seemed wholehearted to me, Leli. Plus, you had the skill, so I didn't see why not, even if you were a bit strange. Besides, you seemed more..." Alistair wrung his hands together and widened his eyes as if in wonderment. "'Oooh, pretty colours!' than 'Muahaha! I'm Princess Stabbity! Stab, kill, kill!'" He held out both hands and pantomimed a stabbing action with both.

Though she giggled, Leliana sat up straight and attempted to punch his shoulder. "Don't make me stab-kill you!"

"No, don't hit me! I bruise easily!" Alistair protested meekly and held up his hands to shield himself from any incoming blows. When none came, he said, "Besides, you wouldn't hit me. I'm too adorable."

"You do realise that one day that excuse won't work anymore, right?"

Alistair laughed. "So you _do_ think I'm adorable. I knew you couldn't ignore my boyish charms."

Leliana rested her cheek on her palm and looked at him amusedly. "Yes, you're very wily to have trapped me in my own words."

"Positively nefarious, I am."

She shook her head and smiled. Then started humming a tune Alistair couldn't quite place. She did that a lot when at camp. If within earshot, he liked listening.

When talking to her, Alistair felt that he really could be free and open. Leliana had a disarming personality. _She makes you want to trust her_. It might have been her bard training, but he doubted it. Leliana was just a _really_ nice person. _Anybody can see that_.

She was a sweet, pure girl in these Blighted times. There was an honest innocence to her, despite her past as a spy. True, she could be a tad preachy, but she always knew when to back off. Sometimes it took a gentle reminder, but she wouldn't knowingly shove her Andrastian beliefs down anyone's throats.

Besides, it was a good thing that she wore her opinions and beliefs proudly. He could respect that.

Alistair looked at her for a while as she happily hummed away. Then he returned his gaze to the fire. Prodded it with a stick.

" _Merveilleux malheur,_ " he muttered to himself.

Perhaps the Orlesians weren't so dumb after all.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"Wynne?"

The mage sat on a stump of a tree, cradling a steaming cup of tea in her hands. It was green, probably of Dalish origin. She turned to look at her and offered a smile. "Yes, dear?"

Leliana fidgeted slightly, unsure of exactly how to say what she wanted to say. _Some bard I am_. She edged closer, awkwardly rubbing her bicep. "May I sit?"

Wynne shifted and made room for her. "Why of course." When she had, the older mage asked, "What's on your mind, Leliana?"

She sighed. Clasped her hands. "Do you feel better? Having made peace with your old student?"

They'd found Aneirin, an elven mage, in the forest. He'd been Wynne's first pupil at the Tower, but their relationship wasn't the best. He'd been brought up in an alienage, and didn't trust humans. Wynne herself had been rather... prickly in her youth, where she should have been patient. So Aneirin had run away from the Tower and Wynne had thought that the Templars had killed him. She had carried that burden all her life.

Until now.

Teacher and student had talked a long time, and buried the hatchet. Aneirin had forgiven Wynne a long time ago, and Wynne was finally able to put her regret to rest.

Leliana tucked a coil of hair behind her ear. In some ways, this was relevant to her situation. She... wanted to know.

Wynne took a long sip from her cup and then placed it down on the grass. She turned to Leliana and said, "I don't know whether I feel better, to be frank with you. Relieved is more close to how I actually feel. Relieved and grateful." A pause. "It was when I was your age that I took in Aneirin as my apprentice, you know?" She smiled wanly and turned away to look at Alistair sparring with Aedan. "In hindsight, perhaps I should have waited a few more years. I was arrogant, my confidence bolstered by my youth."

Leliana knew she looked younger than she actually was, but didn't mention that. It was hard to imagine Wynne ever being arrogant. When she told her so, the older mage laughed and shook her head.

"I've had some two decades or so to grow mellow."

Leliana could not resist. "Like a fine wine, then, losing your raw edges over time."

Wynne snorted. "I suppose there is some truth to that analogy of yours, but dear Maker, I do hate being compared to wine. Or cheese."

With that, she fixed her gaze upon Alistair. " _Especially_ cheese."

Laughing, Leliana followed her gaze.

It was the last day they'd be spending at the Dalish camp before moving on to Redcliffe. Instead of using the day to relax, the boys had taken to training in unarmed pugilism, running a gauntlet. Every three minutes, one of the fighters would be substituted with another, fresh fighter, while the other tried to survive wave after wave of challengers. It was Alistair's turn to run the gauntlet, and so far, he had survived Faren and Oghren. It was him and Aedan now, and the blond seemed to be holding his own so far.

Leliana allowed her gaze to linger on the young man. His stance was solid, and he had good footwork. He seemed to be a well-rounded fighter. She liked how his arm muscles rippled and flexed with every move, how his hair had fallen rather endearingly over his forehead, how the sweat dripped from his chin and eyebrows...

"I'm sorry I couldn't answer your question satisfactorily, child," Wynne said and Leliana snapped her attention back to her. "But I do know that I have you to thank for giving me the opportunity." She grasped Leliana's hand and gave it a small squeeze. "Thank you... for picking up after this old woman."

While it was true that Leliana had found Aneirin, it was quite by chance. She couldn't help herself from poking around the Mad Hermit's lair.

It felt nice, being thanked. She didn't need nor ask for it, but it felt nice nonetheless.

Leliana smiled softly and patted the back of Wynne's hand. It seemed frail, but she knew that the woman was still powerful enough to blast a demon back to the Void. With them, she had always been kind. Alistair was right when he said she was grandmotherly.

"You... remind me of Lady Cecilie," she said quietly.

Wynne rounded upon her, curious. "Who?"

"She was an Orlesian lady. My mother served her until she died and Lady Cecilie let me stay, instead of turning me out on the street." She paused to sigh. "You are like her in some ways. You have the same poise, the same air of nobility."

Wynne breathed a laugh and let go of Leliana's hand. She picked up her cup of tea. "Oh, child, I am hardly noble."

"Nobility isn't just something you are born with. I have met nobles who were petty and mean—complete degenerates," Leliana said earnestly. "Then there are people with a certain dignity and grace. It draws you to them, no matter who you are, or who they are. I think that the lowest peasant can have the most noble spirit and it will always shine through." She stopped and smiled at Wynne. "It is this nobility of spirit that you share with Cecilie."

It was true. Everybody filled a role in their party. Wynne was the grandmother, whom all the children loved. Sten was the stoic uncle who came to dinner sometimes, but always brought presents. Morrigan was the snooty aunt who used her kindness sparingly, but didn't want to admit it. Zevran was the troublesome brother who could talk himself out of trouble most times. Solona was the little sister who was curious and looked at everything with wide eyes. Faren was the introvert, keeping to himself until his presence was required. Aedan was the vigilant older brother, who everyone admired for one thing or another. Oghren was... _well, Oghren_. And Alistair... what was Alistair to her, exactly?

Wynne's words put an end to her ruminations.

"Why... thank you, Leliana. It is very kind of you to say that."

Leliana simply shook her head. "No thanks required." Then she added: "You'd think they would use a free day to rest and recuperate."

"I would have preferred that, yes, but they're young now. Young blood boils for action." Wynne sipped her tea. "I find they become tolerable after thirty-five."

"Surely it isn't _that_ bad," the bard replied with a soft chuckle. She slapped her thighs and got up. "I'll go beat some sense into them."

"Good luck."

She walked up to where the boys were doing their fighting, cracking her knuckles as she did so. Alistair had just hit Aedan on the chin with a well placed jab when Bodahn cried, "Time! Next."

Evidently, it had been Zevran's turn, but Leliana pushed him away. Alistair blinked at her.

"Uh, what're you doing?"

In response, Leliana put up her guard. She smiled at him. "Making a wager, Alistair. If I beat you, you all will cease this ridiculous sparring and go bathe and eat and rest. We have a long walk to Redcliffe to prepare for and you all smell like sweaty socks." Everyone sniffed their armpits at that. "Come on now, don't hold back or anything."

"Granted we smell... not good, but fight you for it?"He still seemed sceptical. "Really? Is this a joke?"

Leliana's smile hardened. _So, I must show him that it is indeed not a joke. Very well, then_.

She took a quick step forward with her lead foot, and she threw a left jab. It lacked power, but it was fast, and it got him right on the cheek. Contact made, she slid back to her original position.

"No," she answered, amidst Zevran and Oghren's hooting.

She could see that her having made contact had taken him by surprise. Then slowly, he raised his fists and assumed guard. _Now_ he was serious. Leliana felt very pleased with herself.

He was tired and she could see that. So she circled around him while he stood still, keeping his body faced towards her. She gave him some time to gather his breath. He would need it.

She suddenly darted in, but he checked her advance by throwing a jab of his own, which she avoided by slipping her head to the outside. Instead of pulling his arm back, Alistair surprised her by folding his elbow and rolling his forearm and aiming a backhanded blow aimed at the bridge of her nose. She hadn't expected that, so she lost some time while trying to slip away.

Leliana couldn't completely avoid it; one of Alistair's knuckles grazed her right cheekbone. She frowned. The blow certainly wasn't lacking in power. Had it connected with its intended target, it would've gashed her and caused her eyes to swell shut.

But Maker, was it exciting!

Alistair played it safe, however. He led with a quick jab, then another. He was keeping her away from him. It was a good strategy, but playing defence all the time was, well, boring.

Leliana waited for the next jab. When it came, she ducked and exploded forward. She felt Alistair's fist sail above her head, and she raised her right and threw it straight. Her right arm crossed over Alistair's left, headed right for his jaw.

 _Perfect counter!_

Except it didn't connect. Alistair bent his arm at the elbow and pointed it skywards, pushing Leliana's right out of trajectory.

While she was dumbfounded by how quickly he'd anticipated her counter, Alistair swung his right downwards, towards her head, and she only saved herself by stepping back, thanking her reflexes.

Though it was a close shave and she was forced to create distance between them, Leliana found herself grinning widely. Her competitive spirit had unfurled its wings. There was no going back now.

 _This! This is what it's all about!_

Alistair let her retreat, but didn't let his guard down. Now at a distance, she spent a few moments studying his stance.

It was a good stance, no doubt. Lead leg pointing at her, back leg pointing away, knees slightly bent. His lead arm was extended towards her and his rear arm hovered over his chest. Alistair had proved himself a very capable pugilist. There was no weakness in his guard she could exploit.

She stepped in again, leading with a jab which he batted away. Then another jab, then a straight right to the gut. _One-one-two_.

Alistair moved his head out of the way, moving to the outside. Taking advantage , Leliana threw a round blow aimed at his face.

He did what she expected: brought his guard up, both hands, to protect his face and absorb the blow. She smirked inwardly.

Leliana altered the course of her punch. Instead of crashing into Alistair's forearms, it sailed past in front of them. Then she rotated her wrist, so that her palm faced outwards, towards Alistair, and while she was pulling her arm back, she hooked her fingers around his right forearm, and pulled it aside, opening his guard and exposing his body.

 _The weakness lies in your psyche, Alistair._

She then stepped in, and delivered a contracted arm blow to the solar plexus. Vertical fist. A peg to the mark.

 _You're a gentleman._

He coughed. A punch to the mark had the ability to leave one breathless. An instant match ender. But Alistair didn't fall to his knees. He was bent over, and realising his chin was exposed, guarded his face, crossing his arms. He displayed admirable tenacity, she had to confess.

 _You fight fairly. With honour._

Alas, even as his face was protected, his sides weren't. Leliana took a step to her left, dipped her shoulder and delivered another round blow, this time to his liver.

 _But I don't have to._

With a choking noise, Alistair fell to his knees. The bout was over.

Then he fell forward on his face, clutching his side. Leliana immediately knelt beside him and rolled him over. His face was scrunched up in agony, eyes closed tightly.

"Can you breathe?"

He nodded.

"Do you want to barf?"

He shook his head.

Leliana sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. She felt slightly bad for having gone as far as she had. It was her fault. She always got too worked up in a competition. Hopefully, Alistair would learn from this experience and not be _too_ salty.

She sat down and placed his head on her lap. "Breathe slowly," she advised while gesturing to Bodahn to fetch some water. "Do you want water?"

"Blighted _Void_ , yes!"

Before she could provide that, however, Aedan strutted up to them, amusedly stroking his chin where Alistair had previously punched him.

"Is he dead?" he asked Leliana, then looked down at the man himself. "Alistair? Alistair? Are you dead? If you're dead, say something, man. We'll get you Oghren's unmentionables and you can sniff them to revive yourself."

Alistair made a strangled sort of noise. Leliana pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing.

Aedan went on. "Would've been better had you died though. Now you have to live with the fact that you lost to a girl. For shame, Warden Alistair. For shame."

"Ah, humour aimed at... my, ah, misery," the blond man croaked. "Ah... ha _ha_ _ha_... oh my bloody liver..."

As the men cracked jokes at Alistair's expense, Leliana sat there and was hit with an epiphany.

Everyone had a role in their group. Alistair's was to keep everybody in good spirits. He had that uncanny ability that no matter what situation they were in, no matter how bleak the future seemed, he seemed to exude good cheer. In a snarky manner, but good cheer no less.

Of the two wardens, Aedan was the brain. The leader. Alistair was the heart. The guardian.

As she helped him up to a seated position and made him drink water and listened to him complain about her having cheated, Leliana couldn't keep the smug smile off her face.

She would always be there to pick their guardian up when he needed the support.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

In retrospect, sparring with Leliana had not been among his more bright ideas. The Orlesian system of pugilism relied entirely too much on kicking, something that while being allowed in Ferelden, was rather frowned upon as a practice.

Solona had graciously conjured up some ice for him, and so Alistair sat icing his swollen shin after being ridiculed for losing to a woman three times in as many days. The most amused by his misfortune had been Morrigan, unsurprisingly, and Alistair suspected deep down that the witch was starting to like Leliana more now.

 _Women_ , he thought with a roll of his eyes. _So... so..._

From the other side of the camp, he heard Leliana's laughter and he looked up to catch a glimpse of her laughing behind her fist.

 _...so pretty._

But then he saw that she'd been laughing at something Zevran had said and his mood instantly soured. Crossing his arms over his chest, the man huffed as he watched the elven assassin engage Leliana in animated conversation.

It was bad enough that they had brought him along after he had tried to kill them. _Kill. Them._

Though Zevran revealed later that it was Loghain and Howe that sent him, that he himself wasn't loyal to them, Alistair couldn't feel easy in his mind.

At the end of the day, Zevran's words were just that: words. There was no proof to back it up. _He probably sweet-talks everybody for a living! What was Aedan thinking?!_

Said man was currently seated beside him, leant up against an oak tree, exhausted after a sparring session with Sten. He'd been trying to improve at his longsword skills, which were severely deficient. While lethal with sword and dagger and sword and buckler, Aedan's expertise with other battlefield weapons was sorely lacking.

Alistair himself had been drilling him relentlessly in proper shield tactics for three days. It helped that Aedan was a quick study. He had that bottled up rage fuelling him to be better and better. Better yet, he had learnt to channel that rage without burning up his mind. He had gone from being an explosive yet blunt force weapon to a sharp and precise one. That made all the difference in the world.

Alistair was proud of him, too. But that didn't stop him from being annoyed every time he put his eyes on Zevran.

So when he threw a pebble at Aedan's face, it was completely warranted. At least in his mind it was.

"What was _that_ for?"

"Oh I just felt like it."

Aedan shot him a dark look. "I get that you're frustrated at not being able to best a girl, Alistair, but take that out on someone else. Or yourself. It helps."

Alistair's cheeks went crimson. "I can't _believe_ -"

"That's what you get," the other man answered and then sighed. "Still don't trust Zevran, huh?"

Alistair could not remember another time when he had been so glad at the change of the subject. "Nope," he answered.

"Alistair, we're Grey Wardens. We-"

"-take help wherever we get it from, I know. Okay? I know. It's just that-"

"It's just that you have a rather romanticised and idealistic notion of the Grey Wardens," Aedan finished for him, causing Alistair to look at him questioningly. Aedan shrugged. "It's true, isn't it? You idolise Duncan, and rightly so. He was a mentor to you and you looked up to him and because he represented the Wardens, you glorify the Wardens subconsciously. Is that not so?"

Alistair stopped his icing and knit his eyebrows together. He didn't say anything.

Aedan went on: "Honestly, I didn't even like him that much. He conscripted me as my father lay dying on the floor. Arrow to the gut, Alistair. You don't die instantly. You bleed out, the wound festers, and pus oozes out and you get a fever and you suffer for three or four days before you actually die." Alistair winced. "My mother decided to stay behind. Buy us some time to escape. I was... content to have died there, with my parents. After all, what did I even have left to live for?" a dark chuckle escaped him and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. "But... Duncan came to Highever to find a recruit, and he did, whatever it took. He pushed his sentimentality aside and did what was best for his order. I didn't like him then, but now... after all _this_... I can understand why he did what he did."

He then turned his head to offer Alistair a tight smile. "If you really idolise Duncan, Alistair, do as he did. Be a Warden he would be proud of. I'm sure he was radically different before joining the Wardens, but years of service, it does that to you. He didn't let anything deter him from his duty. You shouldn't either."

It took some time to digest all of what Aedan had said. He'd heard snippets of what had transpired at Highever, but Aedan seldom spoke of it. Alistair didn't expect a retelling in such a calm and detached fashion, neither was he ready to be psychoanalysed by his friend. While he had been kind, Alistair knew he had no reason to be. Duncan was a sore subject to them both... for different reasons.

Heaving a sigh, he went back to icing his swollen shins. "You're rather clinical in your analyses."

"Why thank you."

"But we're still keeping an eye on him, right? Zevran?"

"Definitely. But you're also keeping your eyes on _her_ , aren't you?"

Alistair didn't like the sudden sparkle in Aedan's eyes. Nor did he like the all-knowing smirk on the man's face.

 _Tread lightly,_ the voice in his head told him.

"What do you mean?" he asked carefully.

Aedan chuckled and shook his head. "You must really be blind if you think nobody in the party has noticed your... closeness with our fair bard."

"What're you implying, exactly?"

"That you spend a lot of time with her, that's all."

"That means nothing."

"Didn't even imply anything, Alistair," Aedan said with a chuckle and closed his eyes again.

Alistair pouted at Aedan's direction and craned his neck to look at Leliana again. She had Zevran's dagger in her hand, giving it a few twists and spins while the assassin explained something.

"I like talking to her," he said suddenly. "She's nice and kind and we have some things in common. She even likes my jokes. I like her stories, too."

"And you're jealous that she's talking to Zevran?"

Alistair's head snapped towards Aedan faster than it had ever snapped towards anybody.

"What? _Jealous?_ What? _Me?_ Pfft. _No_..."

Aedan merely nodded and rose to his feet, dusting himself down. "Whatever you say, my friend. You want to take first watch or cook?"

"I... shall take watch, yes."

"For the best," Aedan said and stretched his back, popping some vertebrae. He then bent down to pick up his practice longsword. "Don't worry. I'll be endorsing your romantic quest."

Alistair nearly choked on his spit. "By Andraste's charred tits, man!"

"You ever need me to pass on love letters, you let me know."

"Just go away."

Left to his devices, the blond warrior sighed and rubbed his face. Did everybody really think there was something in the wind between Leliana and him?

 _But that's preposterous! There is no way she'll ever like somebody like me romantically..._

It was a fool's notion. Aedan's pragmatism had rubbed off on him.

Alistair was about to get up and go to the nearby pond to splash some water over his body and wash off the sweat when he paused suddenly.

 _Wait a moment... am I actually... hopeful? When did that happen?!_

It _was_ true that Leliana was a pretty girl, with a very... _well-proportioned_ body which was hard _not_ to look at...

 _So maybe I stare at her sometimes. Aedan ogles Morrigan all day!_

Alistair rose and stomped over to the pond grumpily, kneeling down and splashing water on his face and over his head. He then pulled off his tunic and squeezed out the sweat before dunking it repeatedly in the cool water. Draining the water out of the cloth, he draped it around his neck and splashed handfuls of water over his chest and armpits, washing himself thoroughly.

It helped him cool down and that made it comparatively easier to think.

He then sat cross legged at the edge of the water and thought.

The sun had disappeared over the western horizon, though the light still remained. It would still take at least a couple of hours for it to become dark. The winds were chilly, doubly so for Alistair as he sat there dripping with water. But at least the winds stopped him from having to wipe himself dry.

Running a hand through his wet hair, the man sighed. While it was true that Leliana was a very attractive woman – and he was guilty of staring at her sometimes – Alistair hadn't had the time to rationalise his sentiments.

He had _meant_ what he had said to Aedan. He really _did_ enjoy their twilight talks. She _was_ nice and kind and enjoyed his jokes. She even told him that his jokes were underappreciated.

She had helped him immensely with her moral support and guidance. She was his good friend, and perhaps even his philosopher. It would've been hard for him to cope with everything going on if she weren't there with him. She wasn't much older than him – he hoped – but she had seen the world. She was wise. She was smart. He respected and admired her.

That didn't mean he was attracted to her.

Or did it?

And even if it did, what had _he_ done to help _her_? What had he done to even _think_ about deserving her affection? In most cases, it was him spitting out his problems, it was him complaining about being miserable. Had he ever taken the time to consider that she was having a hard time with it all as well?

 _...have I ever tried?_

Alistair bit down on his lower lip at this complicated turn his thoughts had taken. _Why is nothing ever simple?_

Perhaps it was his templar training coming back to bite him in the arse. Perhaps it was his low self-esteem. Alistair was aware of his numerous faults, and he bitterly added self-centeredness to the list.

Deeming himself sufficiently dried, Alistair rose to his feet and made his way back to camp wearily. He was not looking forward to reaching Redcliffe, but it couldn't be helped. Duty came before sentimentality.

Whatever he felt for Leliana would have to be stomped down upon. At least until he deemed himself worthy of her affections.

He clenched his jaw reflexively.

 _And that starts with telling her about... myself._

 _Fuck_.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"More stew?"

"Mmm!" Leliana held out her bowl and hurriedly swallowed her mouthful. "Please."

Solona grinned proudly – it had been her turn to cook that night–and ladled more soup into Leliana's bowl. For a sheltered girl, the young mage knew how to make a delicious lamb stew. Apparently, the Circle had a grand collection of cookbooks.

"So d'you like it, then?" she asked happily as she sat beside the redhead.

"Indeed. You're a remarkable cook," Leliana replied with a nod. "Did you cook for Cullen?"

She didn't need to look at her friend to know that her face had gone completely red. Smirking inwardly, Leliana fed herself another spoonful of the stew. Only then did she look up.

Solona twiddled her thumbs and looked down at her lap. "I – I mean, that sort of t-thing wasn't allowed."

"But you would have liked to, yes?"

With a shy smile, the girl twirled a coil of her hair around a finger. "Well... he was always very nice to me."

 _Aww, that's so adorable._ "Was he really?"

"Oh yes. I was a very bookish sort, you see. It helped that I was good at studying, and that allowed me to haunt the library whenever I chose. Cullen would usually accompany me, sometimes even late at night." She smiled and shook her head. "He's very noble. He'd never sit even when I asked him to."

After that, she lapsed into silence. Leliana let her reminisce. Memories of lives left behind were things everyone in their group had in common. Some wanted to get back to it, some didn't and some just couldn't.

 _I wonder what I'll do when all this ends..._

She knew that Lothering had been overrun with Darkspawn. The Chantry there was gone, it was safe to say. Would she find herself another Chantry somewhere? It was a thought.

Life at the Chantry had been one of structure and predictability. Going out had meant visiting the tavern. Leliana had been new to the concept of travelling regularly from A to B. She'd been new to even _having_ an A or B. She'd felt like an alien in a settled landscape. And like any alien, she had been anxious to stay out of trouble.

It was peaceful and Leliana didn't regret her stay there. Not at all. But now that she was on the move again, shooting arrows at Darkspawn and evading the arm of the law while surrounded by a band of adventurers she'd trust her life to, she realised that she was _happy_. Her blood was stirring like an animal at the end of winter. The old nomad demon was talking to her, quietly, whispering in her head. _You're happy now_ , it was saying. _You're happy, aren't you? You even forgot for a moment you're doing the Maker's work, didn't you?_

She immediately squashed such thoughts. Doubting her motives would lead to doubting her choices and then her identity, and that was something she wasn't overly fond of doing.

"I'm going to go see whether the others need any more stew, okay?"

Leliana looked up from her bowl and smiled at Solona. "Of course."

But no amount of squashing and stomping would make emotion go away. One could squash it flat, but its mass would not change. It would seep through the cracks. It would find a way.

 _It always does._

She put the edge of the bowl to her lips and tilted her head back, draining whatever soup remained. She then put it down beside her and licked her lips. It was good soup.

"Hey."

 _Ah. Speaking of emotion._

"Alistair." She met the man with a smile. "Have you eaten? The stew was divine."

"Yeah, no." He didn't sit. "Can I talk to you? For a moment? In private."

Leliana blinked. "We are quite alone her-"

"Please."

That gave her pause. It must have been something important for him to be that determined for privacy. It made her curious. She wouldn't be able to sleep without knowing what it was he wanted to talk about.

So Leliana rose to her feet. "All right."

Much of the worry clouding his face abated and he even managed a small smile. "Thanks. Come with me."

He led her out of the designated camp area and into the surrounding woods. Leliana folded her hands behind her back as she followed, stopping when he did so by the small pond.

"This private enough for you?" she asked lightly and leaned her back against a tree.

Alistair didn't respond. He paced around in a small circle, pressing his fingers together and putting his joined indexes against his lips.

 _Must be really important._

"I haven't been completely honest with you."

She stared at him. "Eh?"

He'd stopped his pacing abruptly and stood facing the pond, turned away from her. "I told you before how Arl Eamon raised me, right? That my mother was a serving girl in the castle and he took me in?"

Leliana nodded slowly, but then realised he couldn't see her. "Yes?"

His hands fell to his sides and she heard him take a deep, steadying breath. "The reason he did that was because... my father was King Maric." A slight pause. "Which made Cailan my half-brother, I guess."

She digested the information silently. Being as used to handling sensitive information as she was, Leliana didn't burst out in shock; it would've been counterproductive. Her mind was surprisingly clear and calm, which allowed her to rationalise.

"Okay," she said quietly, which caused him to turn around and blink at her.

"That's it? _Okay?_ That's all the reaction I get? Damn, I worried for nothing," Alistair said with a breathless laugh before clearing his throat.

Leliana was amused, but said nothing.

"Anyhow. I would've told you. I _should've_ told you. A long time ago, in fact." He shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled down at her boots.

"Why didn't you?"

"It never really meant anything to me. I was an inconvenience and a possible threat to Cailan's rule, so they kept me secret. It's always been a burden more than a blessing, really."

"So why tell me now?"

"Why _not_ tell you now?" It was only then that his gaze shot up to meet hers. "I've put it off long enough. With Redcliffe coming up soon, I didn't want you to find out from Eamon or anybody else." He sighed. "Everybody who knew either resented me or coddled me, you know. Even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of that."

Leliana tilted her head. "So you were afraid of getting treated differently."

"Yes."

"Hmm. I can understand that." She approached him slowly and placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't flinch or tense up. "It doesn't change anything between us, Alistair. Have you told the others?"

He shook his head. "I've never talked about it to anyone. You're the first." _Well_. "I didn't want you to find out for as long as possible, and for that I'm sorry. And thank you. For... just thank you."

"No need for either, Alistair." She grinned up at him. "What other secrets have you been keeping from me?"

Alistair chuckled at that. "My unholy love for fine cheeses and a minor obsession with my hair are basically open secrets, so no, nothing else. Just the prince thing."

"Well _I_ personally think that this _prince thing_ you have going on is rather thrilling."

His cheeks flushed slightly at that and Leliana felt the sudden impulse to squeeze them.

"I... uh... not that I'd want someone to like me for that reason, but there are... worse fates." He cleared his throat. "I'm just... I'm just glad you like me for who I am."

 _He's really sweet_ , Leliana thought as she reached up and brushed her fingers along his slightly reddened cheek. "As am I," she said quietly.

The diffused moonlight was enough for her to see how his eyes widened at her touch before softening. He imperceptibly moved into her touch and his lips brushed her palm quite by accident, sending a wave of... _something_ tingling up her arm.

Their gazes connected again and Leliana found herself attempting to get on the tips of her toes.

A cold gust of wind disturbed the tranquillity of the night, making a nearby owl burst into a hooting frenzy. The suddenness of it made them both jump out of their skin and step away from each other.

As the owl in question flew over their head, Leliana felt like shaking her fist at it but settled for a cold glare.

 _Merde! J'espère que tu mourras ce soir!_

"Ahem." She snapped her gaze back to Alistair, who stood staring up at the trees, rubbing the nape of his neck and trying to stop himself from smiling. "I... uh... I think we should... get back to camp now."

"Oh." Leliana shuffled her feet. "Yes. I think so too."

"Come on, then."

"Okay."

The silence that fell between them was couched in awkwardness, but she didn't mind it. Leliana shook her head, trying to shake away the goofy grin from her face as well but to no avail.

 _Maker, what was I thinking?! I suppose I wasn't, but whatever._

 _His mouth was right. There!_

 _I wonder if he even tastes like wet dog._

"Leli."

 _How does one even taste like wet dog?_

"Leli?"

 _I wonder what it's like to kiss a prince, though._

"Leliana? Hello?"

 _I suppose I'll have find ou- no. Stop this._

"Are you in there, Leliana?"

"Hmm?"

She hadn't even realised that they'd reached camp. Why was it that the return journey always felt shorter?

Alistair smiled tentatively and pointed at his tent. "I have second watch, so... I'm going to get some sleep."

Her head bobbed mechanically. "Of course."

"I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Sure, sure. Sleep well."

"I'll try. Oh, and Leli?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For listening." He lingered for a moment before stepping away from her and waved before turning away.

Leliana let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding.

How to be a breathless, tongue-tied maiden had not been in the bard curriculum, but she felt she'd perfected it.

Before she decided to follow Alistair's example and head over to her own tent, a wild, stray thought lodged itself in her mind: _You're happy now, aren't you? Getting honesty without being honest in turn? Just like the old days, eh?_

Leliana knew then and there that sleep would be an impossibility.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Alistair was rubbing his palm over his lips when Leliana approached him. Looking up, the man couldn't help but feel that something was off. Her usually pleasant demeanour was drawn into one of intense displeasure. She was frowning, her arms were crossed over her chest, and she emanated so palpable a malevolent aura that Alistair almost felt his spine curl.

"So." Clipped. "How was your _kiss_ , Alistair?"

He did not know why he felt the need to defend himself, but he did.

Alistair just gone looking for a village girl's brother who'd hidden himself in an armoire and hauled him back to the Chantry. The sister had kissed him before he could get a word in. While he somewhat enjoyed it, it had felt inappropriate. There were others ways of expressing gratitude surely.

"Hey, _she_ kissed _me_!" He spread his arms helplessly. "I _tried_ not to kiss he-"

Leliana did not let him finish.

"It didn't _look_ like it," she snapped back. Alistair shuddered. "How hard is it to _not_ kiss someone? You just _don't_ kiss them!" She waved a hand back and forth, indicating the space between them. "Look at us right now! See? Not kissing!"

Fear made him leap to his feet. He held up his hands. "Let me finish, okay? She started kissing me, and I just didn't know what was happening or I would have stopped it. By the time I realised what'd happened, it was over and she was gone."

Leliana rolled her eyes in response. "Why _thank you_ for taking your tongue out of that girl's mouth long enough to tell me that. Very _noble_ of you."

Part of Alistair wondered where all the hostility was coming from. But another part of him had started thinking about something else entirely.

"Tongue? They use tongue?" He blinked. "How does that even happen? _Why_ does that even happen?"

He stuck out his tongue and held it in place between his lips, peering down his nose at it. _This thing goes inside other peoples' mouths? Do people have nothing better to do? Doesn't it feel weird?_

"Never mind," Leliana muttered dismissively and pinched the bridge of her nose. Alistair slid his tongue back inside his mouth. "Just... never mind. I'll see you later."

With that, she turned and walked off towards Solona. Alistair watched her go helplessly and dropped his hands to his sides.

"I do so wonder what so enraptures you about our fair bard's swaying hips, friend Alistair."

Alistair felt as if his eyes would roll right back up into his brain. "I wasn't looking at... you know her... hind-quarters."

Beside him, Zevran snickered. "Certainly."

Turning to the elf, Alistair offered an unimpressed frown. "I gazed... _glanced_ , in that direction, maybe, but I wasn't staring... or really seeing anything even." He paused. "Why am I even having this conversation with you? Where did you even come from anyway?"

"Firstly, I am _exquisitely_ charming and disarming, and thus you were charmed and disarmed into conversing with me." The elf chuckled and Alistair felt like throwing his hands up in the air, but then Zevran flicked his thumb over his shoulder towards the Chantry. "And I was educating the brother of the lady who kissed you in regards to how babies were made, but sensing your distress, I thought you needed my expert advice more."

At any other time, Alistair would have been horrified for the boy, but now he just nodded. _Yes, good. It's all that little brat's fault._

"So what was all that about? Did you upset our fair bard in some way?"

He scratched his stubble at that, considering. "I don't know. She seemed pretty ticked off though. She didn't like that I was kissed."

Zevran sighed deeply and shook his head. "Of course she is. Tell me friend Alistair, do you know anything about how women work?"

The blond man stared at his associate. "...no."

"Ah, that explains why you are essentially woo-less. Fortunately for you, you have _me_ for a friend." Placing his satchel on the ground, Zevran knelt and sifted about his belongings. "You have a love for fine ass, my friend, and I respect that. You are a man of refined tastes, a man worth helping."

 _What the fuck is this conversation?_

Alistair started to back away. "Yeah, I think I'm going to pas-"

"Aha! I knew I had it!" Grinning widely, Zevran straightened, turned and pushed a bound book into Alistair's hands. "Here you are. This ought to set you on the right course."

Alistair looked down at the cover and raised a brow.

" _The Lusty Antivan Maid_. Zevran, what _is_ this?"

"Instructive and educational erotica. The best money can buy in all of Thedas," the assassin replied, shouldering his pack and heading off towards camp. "Read that before your exertions tonight, friend Alistair. You might learn something."

Not knowing what a suitable response would be, Alistair said, "I'm not your friend."

"Ohoho! Of course."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"There's enough for everyone, let the best dwarf win!" Oghren bellowed as he ran down the hill with his axe raised high over his head. News had come that more of the walking dead had come up from the lake and were attacking the town. While most of the party had left to combat this new wave, Leliana had stayed back along with a few others to put down the stragglers which remained from the initial attack.

She herself was too livid to bother with any new nuisances.

"Who does she think she is?" the archer grumbled under her breath as her arrow found the eye socket of a zombie. Reaching into the quiver at her hip, she drew three more, each between the gaps of her fingers and proceeded to nock and loose in rapid succession.

"One simply does _not_ go up and _kiss_ random people!" Thwack. "It's so... _inappropriate_!" Thwack. Thwack.

The zombie clutched its groin and succumbed to the flames of the oil pit. Leliana reached for more arrows.

"Leliana, are you quite alright?" Solona asked from behind her.

" _Magnifque_. Never felt better in my life." Thwack. Thud. "Though I must say, Solona, your potion helped plenty." Thwack.

"Yes, well, the monthly visitor was never a welcome guest," the girl answered while electrocuting the last clump of zombies. "We had to find a way to get rid of the cramps."

"When you cook up a way to do away with the mood swings as well, contact me first."

"Will do."

Magic existed to serve the mortal races according to the Chantry's teachings. If magic brought about an end to Aunty Flo's reign of terror, Leliana would _really_ be impressed.

Looking around, the bard made sure that every last one of the zombies was down before she started for the town. The things were already dead. She'd found that the only way to kill them again was to keep hitting them till they stopped moving. To that end, she'd emptied three quivers already.

The fight was still raging in the town square, however. Leliana arrived on the outskirts just in time to see Aedan leap off a barrel and drive his knee into a zombie's face. Scanning the scene quickly, she found that Morrigan and Wynne were blasting away zombies, their backs to each other. _Who would've thought_. Off to one side, Sten held off the zombies as they gathered around him with his newly found old sword while Zevran and Faren cut them down as they tried in vain to reach the giant Qunari.

In the middle of it all was Oghren, as expected, chopping away while singing merrily in his deep baritone. _It's good for boosting the militia's morale, at any rate, horrible singing as it is_. Leliana looked for Alistair, and soon found him.

He'd lost his shield somehow, and had just swung his sword by the blade –double-handed– and driven the quillon into the skull of a zombie. He wrenched it out and then turned his back on the fallen foe to engage a new target. Behind him, however, the wounded undead was not completely dead yet.

Leliana readily rectified this by sending an arrow into the hole created by Alistair's sword. After decapitating the one in front of him the man looked behind him, saw the arrow, spotted her and nodded his thanks.

Her next arrow bonked him on the helmet and caused him to shake his fist at her.

The redhead smirked. _That'll teach you to be more careful_.

No matter how irrational her frustrations were at him for letting himself be kissed – _his first kiss too!_ –by some random village girl, Leliana knew that she had overreacted somewhat. She wouldn't apologise, however. _Let him sweat for what he's done_.

As she provided cover fire from her position, Leliana caught herself thinking that no matter how many village wenches he encountered, none of them could hope to share what she shared with him; a bond forged on the road which ran stronger than blood. They'd come to trust each other with their lives over the course of the journey, and that was a feeling very few people knew or experienced.

She didn't think about _why_ she had overreacted, however. _There's a time and place for such musings, Leliana. Stay focused._

She already knew the answer to that particular question. _To think that it'd take a random girl kissing him to make me realise_. Laughing quietly, she shook her head.

For Leliana knew jealousy. She'd felt it before on numerous occasions. Whether it was caused by guilt or her... _condition_ or for some other, deeper reason... _well_...

Thwack. Thwack. Thud.

 _I'll think about it in the morning. Maker, why must these things always be so complicated?_


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Alistair sat cross-legged across the room from Connor, his back straight and his eyes closed. Silence reigned supreme in the chamber, what with the demon's movement restricted and all. It had been reduced to wagging its chin every now and then just to fill the silence. Alistair didn't mind. He was used to it.

Connor hadn't spoken in what seemed like hours. Alistair himself didn't know how long he'd been sitting there. It was hard to tell in an enclosed chamber. Especially while sitting motionless.

He'd expressly forbidden everybody to enter the room _. Doesn't matter how long it takes or what you hear, do_ not _enter._ It was the only way he'd be able to concentrate, and the only way he could keep the demon from further mischief.

The mind of a templar was a hard thing to break, though it did happen if a sufficiently powerful demon was involved. Of course,seeing as the demon had already possessed Connor, Alistair didn't fear possessed himself. While it could make Teagan dance to its tune, _he_ was a separate beast entirely.

But he was tired. Both in mind and in body. The first day Connor had tried his level best to break free of his hold. Tried to get to him with words. Alistair had not responded to the taunts; it was a guaranteed way to ruin his concentration. After almost two days without food and water, his mental fortitude was starting to wither away.

Wynne, Solona and Aedan had gone to the Circle to get help from the mages to deal with the demon. Some sort of ritual to send a mage into the Fade and fight the demon there. It took a day to get there from Redcliffe across the lake. A day to go and another to return, with some change to get the people and lyrium required.

 _Huh. Seemed like a good idea at the time._

Across from him, Connor snickered. "Your mind is wandering, templar. Best be careful."

Alistair slapped his knee and Connor winced in pain. _How's that for wandering?_

The only way to shut up the demon was to be forceful. It was a battle of wills, and Alistair had a much stronger mind than any given ten year old, demon or no.

But Solona Amell had been a study when it came to forcefulness on that day. From demanding Jowan be released, to _demanding_ to let him help and then making enchanted suits of armour fold in on themselves with lightning–something about metal folding with a strong enough current–the mage had been completely unstoppable.

Alistair chuckled silently. _Who knew that the sweet summer child flower girl had it in her?_

Jowan had been her friend in the Circle. He knew that he had betrayed her and the woman he loved by dabbling in blood magic, and that was something Alistair had a _very_ strong stance against. Maleficars used the life energy present in blood to power their magic, be it their own or others'. Hemomancy was usually frowned upon and maleficars usually killed on sight. Or so his templar training had told him.

His words hadn't been taken kindly by the rest of the party when he'd suggested that Jowan be kept in the cell where they'd found him. He was used to that too.

Morrigan had been especially scathing. _Is this Alistair who speaks, or the templar?_

 _Everybody deserves a chance to redeem themselves_ , Leliana had said. He didn't argue that point. He'd left it up to Solona. She had been his friend. She knew him best.

 _I know you don't trust blood mages, Alistair, but please, trust me_. And he had.

When it was discovered that Connor was an abomination and the root cause behind the walking corpses terrorising Redcliffe, Morrigan had wasted no time in snapping at him.

 _What does our resident templar say, hmm? Shall we separate the child's head from his body because he is an abomination?_

He'd considered it, of course. It would have been the most efficient way. Jowan had suggested a blood magic ritual to send someone in the Fade to combat the demon, but that would've required a sacrifice, someone's blood to drain. While arlessa Isolde had volunteered to sacrifice her life for her son's well-being, Solona had suggested they seek the help of the Circle. Considering everything, her course of action had been deemed the best possible route.

But that had meant a gap of about two days for the ritual to happen. And thus Alistair had locked himself in with the possessed boy to keep him restrained.

"Tell me templar, why do you do it?" Alistair opened his eyes at that. "Why do you go to such lengths to save the spawn of a woman who made your life miserable?"

 _You know what, that's a very good question. Why_ am _I doing this?_

Arlessa Isolde had been the main reason behind his messed up childhood at Redcliffe. He didn't owe the woman anything. Not one damn thing. She knew that her son was a mage, yet kept this from her husband. She hired an apostate maleficar without conducting a background search. Said apostate maleficar had been an agent of Teryn Loghain and had poisoned the arl into a stupor from which he had yet to wake. Arlessa Isolde was a walking talking fuck up, and yet here he was, starving himself and sacrificing his mental health to save her child.

 _Why? Why am I doing this? Duty? Practicality? Am I_ that _big of a sucker that I bend every time I see someone willing to show regret or sorrow?_

He shook his head. Shook away the negative emotions. _It won't do to lose control_. Across from him, Connor smirked.

"You slipped up a little, templar." A chuckle. "Your hatred was... most delicious. Feed me more."

"Was it really?" His throat was drier than he'd imagined. "So I can tell people that I'm yummy? Outstanding."

"Be humorous all you want, templar, but I can feel your weariness. Another day, and you'll collapse. Where are your friends in your time of need, I wonder."

"Probably downstairs having cheese and bacon." _Ah, cheese_. "They trust me, you see. They trust me to keep you in line. Something your _own mother_ didn't trust you to do. I wonder what that's like."

Silence.

Alistair chuckled. "Did I hit a nerve, _boy_?"

"You... should respect me."

"A brat who has no control over his magical faculties and throws a bloody tantrum when things don't go his way? Killing his subjects and raising an army of the dead to terrorise his retainers? It all screams of attention seeking to me, demon." He snorted derisively. "All you wanted was your mother to fawn over you. 'Look at me, mother! I'm suffering! Oooh!'"

" _Shut up!_ "

Alistair narrowed his lids and the boy cowered away. "Don't forget that _I_ am in control of _you_ , boy. I can keep doing this for as long as I like."

"Does your backbone materialise only when you're alone, templar? Because it seems to me that before all the others, your sense of self all but crumbles."

Alistair shrugged. "I don't like making decisions. But believe you me, do _not_ take that to mean that I cannot." He paused and smirked. "Because when I do make a decision, there is nobody more committed to seeing it through than I. Just look at yourself. You've been trying for two days to break me. How many dents have you made? I'm curious."

When Connor didn't respond, Alistair closed his eyes. "This is something only I can do. Not Aedan, not Morrigan, not Leliana. Only me. And when the time comes, those who have the skill to take action also have the responsibility to take action."

 _In War, Victory._

"The only reason I'm doing this is because Connor Guerrin is innocent. Also because a mother doesn't deserve to see her child suffer this way, whatever her faults may be. Finally, I'm doing this to save Eamon so he can help us with Loghain and then the Blight."

 _In Peace, Vigilance._

"To that end, my life is forfeit. As long as they get the job done, I don't really give a fuck what happens to me."

 _In Death, Sacrifice._

He heard muffled laughter. Connor said, "You foolish templar, you think you have what it takes to do away with me?"

"No. I don't need to. There are others better suited to that task than I am. Just as there are things only I can do, there are things only they can do. And I trust them. Though I wish they'd hurry things along a tad. Also, I'm not a templar." He grinned. "My name is Alistair Theirin, and I'm a Grey Warden."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Leliana looked away from Jowan's dozing figure when she heard Aedan's voice. She blinked at the man. " _Quoi?_ "

Aedan, who was already fluent in Orlesian, tapped the letter he held in his hand. "This. You say it's from a spy?"

"He told me himself." She gave him a half shrug when he raised an eyebrow. "After some gentle persuasion."

Without further probing, Aedan folded the letter and pocketed it. "Good job, Leli. The more ammunition we have against Howe and Loghain, the better."

Nodding, Leliana pointed her chin a Jowan. "I think that was a good decision, sending him into the Fade and not the others."

The entourage from the Circle had arrived early that morning and consisted of half a dozen mages, including the First-Enchanter himself. They'd gone to work instantly at Irving's command.

Aedan sighed. "He wanted to make things right. This is his chance. He gets the demon out of the boy and _voila_ , he has some goodwill with the Arl. That's strong leverage. Might help him. If not, there are other options. Solona refuses to let him hang." He scratched the stubble on his chin. "Between you and me, it was a choice between him, Irving and Solona. I'm not sending Wynne into the Fade for a brawl with a demon, and Morrigan would've just refused."

"Why?"

"Hates the Arlessa's guts, that's why."

Leliana hummed. She herself wasn't too fond of the Orlesian woman. She'd known of her from Alistair's stories, but the actual article was much, much worse. The only bit of sympathy she had for her was over her concern for her son.

"He's been in the Fade awfully long," Aedan commented off-handedly and waved Solona over from Irving's side. "Any idea how long it'll take?"

The girl shook her head. "There's no way of telling. It's like the Harrowing almost... something Jowan never experienced," she said reluctantly. "But I have every confidence that he'll pull it off."

"He'd _better_ ," Leliana muttered quietly. "For Alistair's sake."

She hadn't seen in three and a half days. Three and a half days without food and water. He'd told everybody to not go near the room, but that hadn't stopped her. Between her visits to the town square and helping with rebuilding, she would go up to the second floor and stand outside the door. No sounds ever came from within, however.

 _I just hope he... they're both okay._

Magic was something far beyond Leliana's realm of understanding. Infiltration, espionage, assassination, smuggling, pickpocketing, music and archery she was well versed in, but the subtle art of magecraft eluded her completely. As such, she had no idea what it was that Alistair had subjected himself to enduring and what effect it would have upon him. Of course, he'd only decided to do it because he had confidence in his skills...

 _But still..._

A faint murmur among the Circle mages caught her attention and she turned towards them, along with Solona and Aedan.

"What ha-" the man began.

He needn't have. Arlessa Isolde's screech informed everybody in the main hall of Jowan's regained consciousness.

"Could you do it?! Is my boy safe?" she shouted in her heavy Orlesian accent. "Is the demon gone?"

Jowan didn't speak. He looked groggy, but he had managed to sit up. Leliana saw him nod once, and that was all she needed to start moving.

The bard flew up the staircase leading to Connor's chamber, tackling three steps at a time, Aedan right behind her. When they reached the door, the man jiggled the doorknob and grunted in frustration.

"It's locked," he snapped as he moved away and turned to her. "Can you pick it?"

While Leliana knew precious little about magic and magical anomalies, she _did_ know doors, or rather the locks on them. People treated doors with too much respect. They eyed them warily and shuffled close and then did little more than press their soles against the wood. On her many visits to this particular door, her mind had registered the thickness of the door, the way the hinges moved and this all came back to her in a fraction of a second.

Leliana knew how to pick locks. But she also knew when _not_ to pick them.

She took three steps towards the door at a comfortable walk. Nothing dramatic. As long as she kept moving, her upper leg could move faster, her lower faster still and her foot even faster, which allowed her heel to punch through the lock like it wasn't even there.

 _It's a question of force_ , Marjolaine had taught her. _And force is mass times velocity squared, and the_ squared _part puts a premium on speed, not weight. It's always better to move your foot ten times faster than to have ten pounds of extra weight. Never spend so much time picking a lock that you forget breaking down the door is always an option._

A lesson well learnt.

The redhead caught the door on the bounce and Aedan stepped in ahead of her. By mutual understanding, Aedan went straight towards Connor while Leliana knelt beside Alistair. The man sat with his head drooped, unmoving, and for a moment Leliana feared the worst.

 _His is body warm_ , she noted when she placed her hand on his shoulder. She shook him. "Alistair?"

His lips were tinted with white from exertion, but they quivered. Leliana couldn't make out what he said on account of the crunching of several sets footsteps on the staircase. She brought her ear close to his mouth and shook him again.

"Say that again?"

"I said..." His voice sounded like rough wooden boards grating upon one another. "I said that you arrived before schedule. Couldn't do my hair properly."

Turning back to face him, Leliana noted that the corners of his lips were curling upwards in a smile. His hair had fallen over his forehead, but she could still make out that his eyes were sunk into their sockets.

He looked like shit, but his smile still made her grin like an idiot, half out of relief and half out of affection.

"Dork," she told him as Arlessa Isolde broke into the room, howling while tears streamed down her face.

Leliana, with some effort, pulled his body against hers and Alistair placed his head on her shoulder.

"And I thought there'd be harps and lutes when I go out," he muttered in his gravelly tone as Leliana shifted to sit beside him. "Should've known it'd be Screeching Orlesian given my luck."

Amused as she was, Leliana couldn't help but feel a little alarmed when Alistair closed his eyes.

"Alistair?"

"Mmm. Just lemme sleep, yeah?"

Leliana watched on as Isolde showered her boy's sleeping face with kisses while simultaneously thanking Aedan profusely. The Warden was silently enduring this latest assault, but turned to her once while the Arlessa was busy wiping her nose.

He raised his brows and tilted his chin upwards slightly. A question. Leliana translated that as: _How is he?_

Smiling, she nodded once. _He's okay._

She threaded her fingers into Alistair's hair, only to get a snore in response.

The bard sighed. "Sleep well."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Alistair sat himself on the stone railings of the bridge and wiped the sweat from his brow. After a whole day of lying in bed and snacking on cheese, Wynne had declared him fit for travel. He'd wanted to test that, and thus had snuck out of the castle early in the morning for a stroll by the lake.

The crisp early morning air had been cool and refreshing, but had also brought with it the stench of fish. While he was used to it, Alistair did not want to expose himself to it more than necessary. He'd decided to ditch the lake in favour of the hills, but the uphill struggle had sapped his stamina.

 _Deep breaths, Ali-bear. Inhale through your nose, count to ten and exhale through your mouth. Like that. It's just a hill. You've lived through worse. Remember how the Arlessa hugged you, cried on your shoulder and kissed your cheek last night? You're a survivor. The hill's got nothing on you. Nope. Anyway, better a hill than a bloody staircase, eh?_

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath and resumed his trek. He went up to the secret tunnel entrance at the base of the windmill through which they'd entered the castle. Alistair shook his head. _Grew up here, never knew about a secret entrance. Way to instil trust, Eamon. Ah well. To work!_

He soon found what he was looking for and smiled to himself as he knelt. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.

 _Now to just sneak back into the castle and act innocent._

"What're you _doing?_ "

That plan shattered into thousands of bits and Alistair shot up to his feet.

"Are you following me?" he turned and levelled an accusatory gaze at Leliana all the while carefully keeping his hands behind his back as he sat himself on a crate. The redhead only smirked. "One moment of peace is all I want, woman."

"You'll have plenty of peace on the boat ride back to the Circle," she replied easily and walked up to him. "You didn't answer my question."

"And you didn't answer mine."

"I asked first."

"I'm the victim here. I'm _also_ sick. You should be nice and humour me."

"You should be in bed if you feel sick. Shall I drag you back by the ear and tuck you in myself?"

Alistair frowned. "I just wanted to stretch my legs. All I've been doing is sitting and sleeping for four days."

She nodded, accepting his logic. "And I was following you. I saw you go out of the castle and got curious."

"That's a bogus explanation."

"Should I have gotten Wynne instead?"

A cold shiver ran down Alistair's spine. The old healer, though grandmotherly, could be very strict. He had no doubt that Wynne would have force-fed him castor oil for a week if she came to know about his little adventure.

"...you didn't, right?"

Leliana smiled triumphantly. "No, but I always could."

"Yeah, she doesn't need to know about this. She has enough on her plate already. You wouldn't want to burden her with more, would you? Her health might fail."

"I suppose you're right." She grinned and looked up at the windmill. "I once took a ride on the sails of a windmill. Didn't turn out well."

Alistair was not surprised. "What kind of crazy nun _were_ you?"

She didn't look at him. "I sometimes wonder that myself," she said quietly before shaking her head and offering him a smile. "Breakfast will be served soon. Shall we go?"

"In a moment. My feet hurt." He coughed. "I have something for you."

Evidently, that had caught her by surprise since both her brows shot up. "Oh?"

"This is the main reason I came up here. This is where I always found them before, so I thought there'd still a few around." _You can do it, Ali-bear!_ He brought his hands forward and held them out to her. "For you."

He'd found a clump of the things, but only picked out a handful.

Leliana looked at the flowers for a long moment, then at him. "That's... you..."

"Andraste's Grace, yes." He smiled. "Go ahead."

The redhead took them. Alistair watched her smile spread as she sniffed them and closed her eyes. "They smell like Mother used to," she whispered. "These were... her favourite. I haven't seen these in such a long time..."

"Something to remember her by," Alistair said as he got to his feet. "Do you... like them?"

She opened her eyes at his question and Alistair saw in them a softness and warmth he'd hitherto never encountered before. Her eyes were like two wells of azure, deeper even than the waters of Lake Calenhad and they arrested him for a moment.

"They're beautiful, Alistair," she said and stepped closer to him with the swiftness of a pouncing wolf, and kissed him on the cheek before he could back away. "Thank you. Thank you _so much_... for remembering."

"I – well – you – ah, ha ha ha ha." Now he _did_ back away, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so. Alistair couldn't even bring himself to look at her, much less form words. His eyes darted everywhere except for her face and he cursed himself for ruining the moment. His only refuge lay in humour and that's where he went. "I mean, I was hoping for something steamier, but hey, this works, ahaha."

 _Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshu_ -

"Sounds good. Off with the tunic, then."

 _Excuse me hello what the fuck._

His gaze snapped to her face directly and he swore he saw a predatory smirk flit across her features.

Alistair laughed, not knowing what to do. "Bluff called! Damn, you saw right through me."

Leliana took a few steps towards him. "Why must it be a bluff, Alistair? You're a good person, a great listener, a reputable warrior, you often show signs of intelligence and are fairly good looking–most of your facial features are in the right place. You are _most_ desirable."

He took a few steps away from her. _She's playing with you, Ali-bear! Take it and hit back!_ "It doesn't _have_ to be a bluff." He managed a smirk somehow. "Maybe when we're back at camp some night? In a tent?"

Her smirk readily grew at his words. He did not like that. Not one bit. "Who needs a tent?"

"But what if some monster comes along while we're canoodling? How _embarrassing_!" Walking backwards around the windmill while she came at him with her predatory grace was _not_ an activity Alistair enjoyed. Anymore, and he'd turn it into a science. _Strategic retreat!_ "Or maybe I'm just a big coward. Who, umm, needs a tent. For stuff."

Leliana only giggled. "I've been _trying_ to fight it, but you just said _all_ the right things."

"Uh, I-I did?"

" _Mais oui_. I've been waiting so long to get on that body, so don't keep me waiting any longer, big boy."

Alistair blinked and looked down at himself. Then he looked back at her and placed his hand on his chest. "This body?" he chirped.

"Oh you know it, _Chéri_."

 _The ship is slowly sinking, the ship is slowly sinking_. Alistair pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll just be, uh, standing over there. Till the blushing stops. Just to be safe. You know how it is."

Somehow, they way her grin widened when she looked over his shoulder made him uneasy. When his back hit a tree, he understood why.

 _Shit_.

"Come _on_ , Ali- _bear_. Sex me up!"

His mouth hung open at that. "That's the butcher's wife's line from chapter seven of _The Lusty_ _Antivan Maid!_ "

Instead of replying to that, Leliana only smirked and stepped closer. Now that he had nowhere left to go, Alistair flattened himself against the tree.

 _Maker have mercy on my poor cheese-loving heart._

"Come now, let me help you get those clothes off," the redhead said breathlessly as she pressed up against him, a palm flat atop his chest. "It would've been better if you'd brought a helmet though, because you're in for a _rough ride_!"

Wrapping his arms around the tree behind him and trying very hard to sink into it, Alistair croaked with much difficulty, "I don't want to I'm scared."

He heard a snicker, but was too afraid to look. When she stepped away from him, Alistair felt like his knees would collapse.

"Your feet don't still hurt, do they? You were mighty sprightly just now."

"I hate you," he returned hotly. "Taking advantage of a poor defenceless young man like that? It wasn't funny, you know."

"I think it was," she insisted and turned to walk away. "Follow me, _my prince_. I shall accompany you to your banquet."

Alistair noticed a bounce in her step as she skipped down the path to the bridge, stopping and turning around to make sure he was following.

With a sigh, the blond man separated from the tree and started trekking down the path.

"I'm going to regret telling you about my father, aren't I?"


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Due to an error, email alerts were not sent to story followers for chapters 16-20. This chapter will be the last update for the while. Do enjoy this recent string of updates.**

* * *

 **Chapter 22**

Arlessa Isolde had gone all out in showing her approval for their party by providing a small ship to transport them and the mages back to the Circle. It usually took a day to cross the lake, so Leliana hoped that they would make it by midday on the morrow.

The bard had taken refuge on the upper deck, leaning against the railing. She watched the interplay of black and silver unfold in the water beneath her, watched the twinkling stars reflected in the still waters until the ripples distorted the image. Her hair–which now reached her shoulders and a little beyond–swayed in the gentle breeze and she made no effort to restrain it.

Despite the calm stillness of her surrounding, her mind was drowning in disquietude.

In moments of quiet reflection, thoughts of her dishonesty plagued her. _He deserves to know the truth after speaking up about himself_. Leliana had been relieved to know that he had been keeping secrets from her. It meant that she wasn't alone. She had decided to tell him, but circumstances had prevented her from doing so.

 _But... he remembered_. She smiled. _He got me flowers_.

While she had teased him mercilessly in the morning, she had meant what she said about him. She _did_ think he was a great person. She _knew_ he was a good listener. She'd seen first-hand his prowess as a fighter. _And he_ is _quite charming with his awkward templar-boy ways_. It was endearing.

Dropping her chin onto her hands, Leliana sighed tremulously. _Feelings are hard_.

She made a decision. _The next time I see him, I'm telling him_. There would be no more lies between them.

The door to the ship's galley opened at that very moment and a humming Alistair stepped out, using his foot to close it.

Leliana massaged her temples. _Really? Now?_

"Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who went riding from blah blah blah words words words words... ah, Leli! Yoohoo!"

The man waved at her and she couldn't not wave back. Of course, he took this as an invitation and came over to her, smiling widely.

"'Choo doin'?"

"Thinking. Are you drunk?"

"Pshh. It'll take more than five bottles of mead to get me drunk. It's just honey." He paused. "You know, you should _never_ talk to people who call you _honey_. It's just bee vomit. You don't need such people in your life."

Amused, she shook her head and looked out at the water. "Not drunk, then. But definitely a little buzzed."

"Won't deny that." He laughed and leant back against the railings, supporting himself with his hands. "Did you sup?"

"Hmm. You?"

"Sure did. I'm a good boy."

That tickled her. "You're cute," she told him, smiling.

"Cute? _Cute?_ That's it? You might as well just stab me in the face while you're at it." He sighed deeply. "But I suppose being called cute by a beautiful woman is worth something."

She would not touch that. Not now. "But I thought you liked being adorable?"

"It's a good excuse." He shrugged. "But if after we end the Blight they start calling me Alistair the Adorable, I'm committing suicide and coming back to haunt you."

Leliana could not help the peal of laughter that escaped her. "If anything, they'll call you Alistair the Amusing."

He hummed. "Good enough. But what were you thinking about?"

"Hmm?"

"Oh you know. Looking out over the horizon and gathering your thoughts and distilling them before you immortalise them in verse." He grinned. "It's how you looked."

She smiled. _I guess this is all the time I can buy for myself. How do I even begin?_ "Alistair?"

"Yeah?"

"I have something for you."

"...flowers?"

"No." Shaking her head, she turned towards him and brought out an amulet from her pocket. She held it out so he could make out the symbol of Andraste. "This."

She saw his eyes narrow before widening, saw the bulge in his throat bob up and down. He touched it tentatively with his fingertips, but didn't take it from her.

"This is... my mother's amulet. Isn't it? It _has_ to be. But it isn't broken..." All trace of levity left him. Indeed, he sounded confused more than anything. "Where did you...?"

"In the Arl's study," Leliana replied softly. Three and a half days were a long time to stay indoors without exploring and when she found it, she'd kept it.

"I don't–I don't understand. This means he found it after I'd thrown it, had it repaired and... kept it with him all this time?" Alistair dropped his hands to his sides and said mostly to himself, "Why would he do that?"

She'd been puzzling over that herself. Of course, coming to a definite conclusion wasn't possible, but she could theorise. "I suppose you meant more to him that you realised."

"You could be right," he said doubtfully. "We never talked much. And with the way I left..." He shook his head. "I should... talk to him if he... _when_ he recovers. I wish I had this a long time ago."

Hesitantly, Leliana held the chain with both hands and held it up. "May I...?" she trailed off.

"Hmm? Oh. Uhh, of course," he said quickly and bowed his head so Leliana could put it on him.

"There," she said as he straightened, patting the amulet over his chest. "Back where it belongs."

"I just... I don't even know what to say besides thank you, though that isn't enough." The man sighed and took the amulet in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the symbol of Andraste. He looked up at her. "I only got you flowers-"

She placed her index on his lips, shushing him. "They weren't just flowers. Alistair, what you gave me was a way of remembering my mother. Nothing equals that gift."

Leliana blushed slightly when he covered her hand with his and gave her wrist a squeeze. "This does," he said quietly. Then with a short laugh: "Really, I didn't think about all that when I gave you those flowers. It was just... an impulse." He let go of her hand and settled back against the railing. "I was thinking... here I was, doing all that whining while you weren't having an easy time of it yourself. Yet you never complained. Even with all the death and tragedy. I just thought I could do something, you know? However small. If I'd known that you would take out some insignificant detail out of all that complaining and give me a grand gift, I'd have picked more flowers." He chuckled and stared down at his boots. "I guess I'm just used to people not really paying attention to what I'm saying."

It irritated her how he thought himself as insignificant. "Of _course_ , I remember," she said sternly. "I remember everything you've told me about yourself. Never think for a moment that you mean nothing to me, Alistair, because you do. You are... special. To me."

Her tone had caught him by surprise. She could see that in the way he blinked at her, trying to make sense of her words.

"Ehh?"

"I cherish _all_ the memories of us on guard at camp, talking to pass the time in the small hours... well, _I_ talk and _you_ listen mostly..." _Oh Maker I'm word vomiting_. "Sometimes I fall asleep and wake to find you still watchful and I know that you're watching out for me. It's comforting, your presence." She latched onto his bicep, swept away by emotion. "W-what I'm trying to say is that I'm comfortable around you, Alistair. I know you'll be there when I need you."

The redhead took a deep breath to steady herself and let go of his arm. "And I need you now... to listen to what I have to say next," she said and looked up at him.

Alistair, to his credit, looked fully committed to his task, despite everything she'd just said. "Go on."

 _Right_. Leliana sighed and turned towards the lake again, gripping the railing tightly. "I lied to you, you know. About why I came to Ferelden. I didn't want to talk about it at the time. What happened to me... maybe it will affect us." She waved dismissively. "Maybe it won't. But you should know." She stared at the water for a while before saying, "I left Orlais because I was being hunted there."

"Hunted?"

She nodded. "I was framed for something I did not do. Betrayed by someone I trusted. Marjolaine." She chewed out the name. "She was my mentor... and friend." Or so I thought. "She was the one who taught me the bardic arts. She taught me everything I know–how to carry myself like a high-born lady or how to blend in like a servant–and I used what she taught me to help her, my bard-master, because I enjoyed what I did." She hesitated before adding, "And because I loved her."

Alistair didn't say anything to that, but Leliana felt the need to explain herself.

"She was remarkable woman, Marjolaine. I do not think I can fully express the admiration I had for her. Or the depth of my affection." _Move along, move along_. "My devotion to her blinded me to her... less than noble attributes. You could say it was my fault really." She laughed bitterly. "I was sent to kill a man. I didn't know who he was–I just had a name and a description. Enough for me to track him down. I was under orders to bring all he carried to Marjolaine, and all he had on him were documents. Sealed documents." Leliana paused quickly to stop a wave a of anger from spreading through her body. "Something told me that they were important. And they were. You see, Marjolaine had been selling information about Orlais to other countries like Antiva and Nevarra, among others. It was treason.

"My life as a bard had taught me to keep my loyalties flexible, you understand. I was afraid–not because she was a traitor, but because her life would be in danger if she were caught. Countries tend not to appreciate treason, as I soon found out." She turned and took a few steps, passing Alistair by but kept talking over her shoulder. "I should have left it alone, but I _had_ to tell Marjolaine that I feared for her life. She brushed off my concerns, but admitted to guilt. It was all in the past and thus the documents had to be destroyed, she said. And I believed her. And I _kept_ believing until they showed me the documents, altered by her hand to make _me_ look the traitor."

What Alistair said under his breath she could not quite catch, but knew that it had not been flattering. _Can't blame him_.

Leliana stood on his other side now, and reached for the railings again. "The Orlesian guards captured me. They did... terrible things to make me confess to my crimes and reveal my conspirators." A shudder passed down her spine at the memory, and her grip on the railing tightened involuntarily. "It was a traitor's punishment I endured, and at the end of it, all I had to look forward to was an eternity in an unmarked grave. But I guess every cloud has a silver lining, for when I saw an opportunity, I broke out. The skills Marjolaine taught me were good for something, at least." She attempted to laugh, but it came out hollow.

"And you... never tried to go after Marjolaine?"

"No. Survival was my only concern at the time. Besides, if she saw me coming she would have me caught again. Not to say I didn't want to, oh no. I wanted to confront her. I was furious, betrayed, but what could I do against her?" She sighed again, hanging her head. "And so I fled across the border to Ferelden, to Lothering. Ferelden protected my person while the Maker saved my soul." Attempting a small smile, she looked at him. "And now you know all. No more lies between us. At least, not in this."

 _Now comes the judgement._

"That's... a lot to take in," Alistair said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, I knew it wasn't going to be simple sightseeing, but wow. That's just... wow." He sighed. "Thank you for trusting me with this, though."

Leliana shook her head. "No, thank you for listening." _And understanding_. "It feels good to get this off my chest."

And it did. More than she could have imagined. The metaphorical weight being lifted felt physical to her. Saying it out loud had felt more liberating than... anything.

When she felt him wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her into his side however, Leliana couldn't help the small squeak of surprise which escaped her.

"I'll always be here to listen, Leli. You can count on that." Hearing his deep voice lower and reverberate so close to her ear did nothing for her hormones. "You're my favourite person, okay? I'll always be there for you should you need Alistair the Amusing." He chuckled and squeezed her shoulder before letting go.

She missed his touch already. _Get a hold of yourself. It's not your fault he sounds really nice when he lowers his voice like that._ "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you again. Really."

He waved it off. "I'm going to go to bed now, though. Still feeling a little woozy."

"Of course. Goodnight, Alistair."

"Mhmm. Night night, Leli," he said and winked at her before turning to leave. Leliana caught herself wondering whether she should follow him to his quarters, but abandoned the idea as soon as he whirled around and came back. "Oh, and while we're on the topic, when you said you loved this Marjolaine woman, did you mean platonically or full-on touchy-feely hanky-panky?"

The redhead blinked. "Why?"

"Look, I mean, I know this is personal, but I only recently found that two women could... y'know." _Oh_. "Like, I know _what goes where_ and all that, but... how does it work between two women?"

When he clasped his fingers to show them fitting into the gaps between each other to demonstrate, Leliana burst out laughing.

"What? What's so funny?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh," she said while still giggling unapologetically. "It's just... do you know _anything_ about women?"

"Funny you should say that, actually. Zevran asked me the same thing when you were giving me hell for kissin-" He stopped himself. "I said nothing. Forget I said anything."

"It's okay, Alistair. I know I overreacted that day, and I'm sorry." She offered him a smile. "Really. It was just the hormones. It was _that_ time of the month, you see." She rolled her eyes. _You know how it is._

"...right." Alistair rocked back and forth as if considering her words. "You say that like it's supposed to mean something, but I'm not quite sure what it does."

 _Oh. Oh my_. "Are you... quite serious, Alistair?"

He did not seem to trust her grin. "I don't like it when you grin at me like that. Bad things happen to me when you grin like that."

Leliana grabbed his forearm before he could slip away. _Oh, this is going to be so much fun!_ She gave him the most innocent smile she could muster.

"Allow me to tell you _all_ about it, my prince."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Evidently, the ship is called Lelistair. Shoutout to KingDaemonBlackfyre for that piece of intel. Hope you all enjoy. No, there won't be a follow-up chapter for some time.**

* * *

"Could you pass me the salt, please?"

Alistair complied without looking up from his own plate.

"Maker, you can't even _look_ at me, can you?"

"Nope."

"You're overreacting."

"Maybe it's just _that time of the month_ _for me_ ," Alistair mimicked Leliana and put down his fork with purpose, looking up and focusing his gaze at the rafters. "Every time I look at you, I think of leaking blood out of..." he shuddered. "Then I think of all that happening to _me_ and I just... no..."

He heard her snort. "It's the sign of a healthy body, Alistair."

"Sure. But it's _also_ disgusting." He held up his hands and looked at her tentatively. "I'm sorry, but it _is_. I'm sure I'll get used to the idea in a few weeks. Or months. But they don't teach us stuff like that at Bournshire. They teach us the number of ways one can emasculate abominations and deal with maleficar, not the various ways in which a woman can _suffer_." He paused. "You're sure that it isn't some form of blood magic?"

"For the thirteenth time, yes Alistair, I am sure. It happens to every woman."

"Huh." He stabbed a piece of venison with his fork. "I hope it happens to Arlessa Isolde more often. Or that old biddy from the monastery. Unless she's dead already."

"It's not a form of punishment, you know. It's just something we have to live with."

"Given a choice, would you rather live with or without it?"

"Well..."

"Exactly." He smirked victoriously and pointed his fork at her face. "You wouldn't. You put up with it because you have to." Then he stuck the meat inside his mouth and chewed. "All ahm shayin' ish that it ish dishgushting to imagine." He swallowed. "Not to mention horrifying."

Leliana rolled her eyes. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Alistair."

"Are you telling me that you weren't the least bit horrified the first time it happened? Not even a bit? Come off it, Leli. Had it been me, I'd have thought I was dying or something."

"Hmmm. The first time it happened, I was very young, so I don't readily recall all the details." She shrugged. "But I remember being afraid. I believed I was sick. Or cursed."

Alistair flipped his palms and sat back. "Well there you go, then."

"But it isn't disgusting."

"I'm young and impressionable, you know. Things like that can scar me for life."

Leliana hummed and placed her elbows on the table, leaning in with a smile and twirling a lock of her hair with a finger. "You know, I've been wondering about that..."

Alistair sensed his stomach trying to force its way out of his arse, but he stood resolutely, fork in hand, at the face of danger.

 _Be brave, Ali-bear!_

"Wha-wha-what were you won-wondering about?"

"Since you're such a young and impressionable man brought up by the ways of the Chantry," she began, her lips quirking into a smirk. "Have you never...?"

She left the question hanging, just like her open mouth. Alistair gulped.

"Have I never what?" _When in trouble, misdirect_. "Had a good pair of shoes? Seen a basilisk? Ate jellied ham? Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?"

She laughed at that. "You're avoiding the question."

"What, I'm being serious! Okay then, you tell me." He leaned in this time, emboldened by his newest creation and lowered his voice just like Aedan had taught him. "Have _you_ ever _licked_ a _lamppost_ in _winter_?"

It was a partial success. She chuckled, but the mischievous twinkle in her eyes didn't go away.

In a slightly breathy voice, she licked her lips and said, " _All_ the lampposts."

"Impressive. I've heard that it's painful and that there's much pointing and laughing involved. Oh the humanity!" Alistair laughed and shook his head as he leaned back into his chair. "And to answer your question, no I haven't had the _pleasure_." He paused to skewer the final piece of meat on his plate. "Not that I've not thought about it, but y'know."

"Oh? Never had the opportunity?"

He chuckled. "You've lived in a Chantry yourself, Leli. Not exactly the place for rambunctious boys."

"Perhaps not, but there were many a lovely young initiate in the Lothering cloister. All of them chaste and virtuous." She smirked and tilted her head. "It added to their mystique. Because then, they were forbidden, and forbidden fruit is always the sweeter, no?"

"And what about _your_ fruit? Are they forbidden?"

 _Got you_ , Alistair thought with some pride when he saw Leliana's eyes widen in surprise.

"M-my fruit?" she stammered, cheeks reddening. "They aren't _technically_ forbidden, but they aren't freely given out either!"

"Right. Because you were only affirmed instead of an initiate," he said with a smirk, chewing his meat slowly and suggestively.

When Leliana placed her chin on her hand to try and hide her blush though, Alistair shook his head.

"In all seriousness, Leli, I was taught to be a gentleman. Especially around beautiful women such as yourself." _Ah, if only they could see me now_. "That's not so bad, is it?"

He watched Leliana's smile grow wider. He had no doubt that it mirrored his own.

"You think I'm beautiful, do you?"

"Of course I do. I'd be blind not to," he said seriously. "You're ravishing and resourceful and a whole bunch of other things you'd probably hurt me for not saying."

"I would never hurt you, Alistair."

"Nor I you."

They sat couched in silence, smiling across at each other stupidly. The rowdy atmosphere of the tavern didn't seem to be intruding upon their little bubble. Alistair found himself unable to look away from her face now. He thought that the gentle curve from her chin to her neck was beautiful.

The information was so worthless he wanted to kill himself. Alistair cleared his throat in an effort to control his emotions from getting carried away.

"While this is the sauciest conversation I've ever partaken in, I have to wash down my embarrassment with some mead now," he said with a chuckle. "Get you anything?"

Leliana shook her head and got up. "No. Just water for me."

"Really? Are you going to tell me now that you don't drink or something?"

"If I do, will you take advantage of me?"

"Of course not," he spluttered, aghast. "Leliana, I would never – you know me!"

She rose from her chair then and placed her palms flat on the table, leaning in close to his face. Close enough for their noses to almost touch. Entirely too close than what was necessary. Alistair's mouth hung open in surprise. He had no idea what to expect.

"Then what's the point of drinking?" she asked softly yet sultrily and Alistair could almost taste her breath. It sent a shiver down his spine and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end.

All too quickly she was gone. Alistair watched her figure disappear towards the ladies room, dumbstruck. He doubted he could even leave his chair. His legs were pretty much gone.

 _But what was_ that _?! Holy shit! Holy flaming, Andrastian shit! Holy jumping fucking shitballs!_

A slap on the back rattled his spine soon thereafter and Alistair felt that he was fully in control of his body again.

"You shoulda said summin'," Oghren told him, clapping him on the back again, sending him into a coughing frenzy. "Now yer moment's gone, boy. You were doin' so well, too."

"Do something? Like what?" Alistair asked and immediately regretted his question as the dwarf's face lit up.

"Well then." He rolled up the sleeves of his tunic. "Lemme just," he cracked his neck, "show you."

With that, Oghren darted off towards the dwarven barmaid not too far from his table. Alistair watched with both horror and fascination, as if he were watching a road accident. He just couldn't look away.

"Are you a baker?" Oghen began. "'Cause you've got a sodding nice pair of buns."

Alistair smashed his forehead into the tabletop.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Merry Christmas, people! Thanks for sticking around for two whole years of this fic, and I hope you have a good one.**

* * *

 **Chapter 24**

"Been a while, hasn't it?" Alistair asked as he sat himself down. Leliana looked at him curiously. "Since we've camped outdoors, I mean. I for one am glad to have left Redcliffe behind."

She smiled. It was understandable, how he felt. "Being on the road has its own charm."

"Being on guard duty does too. It's almost nostalgic after a week of not having to do this. Funny, I always hated guard duty during field training. The monks would send us into the adjoining forests sometimes. To meditate, train and survive on our own. You know one time I woke Cullen up by spooning him and grinding against his rear?"

"Oh Maker. Is this Solona's Cullen?"

"Mmm yeah. So he wakes up, right? Hard not to, honestly." He grinned. "So he looks at me. And he says to me, 'Sweetheart,' and nods back off to sleep."

Leliana covered her face and chuckled. "How old were you?"

"Sixteen or something. I don't remember. I blame it all on hormones."

"Very convenient. Shall I inform Solona of her new rival in love?"

"Oh it was just a one-time thing. We both decided it would do us no good." He sighed dramatically and looked into the fire. "I'm still quite broken up over it, actually."

She punched his shoulder playfully, laughing. "You are ridiculous, you know that?"

"I believe you meant _magnificent_."

"Magnificently ridiculous."

"There we go."

Bantering was nice. It was comfortable and reliable territory, unlike the uncharted territory they'd somehow waded into recently. Leliana still wasn't quite sure where to draw the line, where it – whatever _it_ was – was going. She felt that she knew where she wanted it to go, but wasn't sure whether it was the right thing to do.

 _Decisions, decisions._

Speaking of decisions, Aedan had decided to take a detour. Instead of continuing on to Denerim, they'd turned south.

"You're thinking about today's events, aren't you?"

She turned to him, surprised. He smiled gently. "It's almost been a year, Leli. I think I know you a little bit by now."

Laughing, she shook her head. "So you tell yourself."

"So I know." He quietened. She saw his grip tighten on the sword on his lap. "I think it's the right thing to do. I have no doubt that if nobody else wanted to go, Aedan, Wynne and I would have gone regardless."

"To Ostagar?"

"Yeah."

Travelling through Bann Loren's lands that morning, they'd stumbled onto a man being attacked by armed guards. Alistair and Aedan had both recognised the man as one Elric Maraigne, one of King Cailan's honour guard. Inevitably, they'd gone to his rescue. After his recovery, the man had told them of how the former King had entrusted him with a key to a chest containing important documents and how he'd left it hidden at Ostagar itself, afraid that he'd lose it. The man had agreed to accompany them to the place where the Darkspawn horde had overpowered the Ferelden forces and murdered the King.

Leliana knew of the events at Ostagar; how the King's trusted General Loghain had turned his back on the battle and left, leaving everyone else without reinforcements. All of the Grey Wardens had perished on that night. All except Aedan and Alistair.

She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "I do not think anybody would have refused, Alistair." She smiled. "You would not have been alone."

He nodded and placed his hand above hers, giving her wrist a grateful squeeze. "Thank you."

It flustered Leliana how so insignificant an action caused her stomach to flip and roll like a ship caught in a storm. It was most vexing.

So she immediately changed the topic.

"Do you like the night better, Alistair? Or the day?"

"The day. I don't have to worry about ghosts coming out from under my bed and clawing at my foot then." He snickered. "You?"

"The night," she answered. "It always seems more peaceful to me. Safer."

"Safer how? Not afraid of ghosties living under your bed?"

"Heh. I just think that the night provides a reprieve from the troubles of the day, that's all." She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. "I suppose it may sound silly. The Darkspawn never rest. They are always lurking in the shadows."

"Well if they are, let them show themselves and I'll turn them into a hearth-rug." She snorted. "No but really, everybody is entitled to a little silliness. Look at me. I took laying down my burdens so seriously that I made an inexperienced newcomer take the lead." He chuckled darkly and shook his head. "Best decision ever."

Humming, Leliana placed her cheek atop her knees to look at him. "You could always ask to take charge."

He laughed genuinely at that. "Yeah, right. No leading. Bad things happen when I lead. We get lost, people die, and the next thing you know I'm stranded somewhere without any pants."

At that, she smirked. "I don't know. I think it might be quite enjoyable... being stranded with you." She smacked her lips. "Without any pants."

Leliana was immensely gratified when she saw the very tips of his ears redden.

"You're a bad person," he muttered and poked the fire with a stick. "Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You're a bard. You're supposed to be good at swooping down on hapless men with your wily seductress-y charms."

"Wily seductress?"

"Yeah. You're a seductress. And you do so in a wily manner."

"Is this your way of telling me that you find me..." She twirled a coil of hair innocently with a finger. "Seductive?"

Alistair barked out a laugh. "Pretty sure I'm immune to your charms by now, lady."

"Oh, that's what they _all_ say. Then I toss them a glance and a smile and they turn to mush." She grinned and shook her head. "You men always read promises into such things and go to great things to see them promise fulfilled."

She'd meant it as a joke, but she didn't miss the frown that crossed his face momentarily. Before she could overthink on what she'd said, however, he sighed.

"Maybe you could smile at the Blight and tell it to go away."

There was some bitterness in the way he spoke. Leliana frowned. Could it be that he was bothered by her past? Why would he be? It wasn't like he was jealous or anything...

She gulped.

 _Is he jealous? Truly?_

Why would he be jealous? Did he feel for her as well? But that was ludicrous! He'd never done or said anything that pointed towards that. Or had there been signs and she'd missed them?! How could she have missed them? But there were none. She was sure of it.

 _Or am I?_

Then she realised that she hadn't responded and coughed into her palm for an excuse.

"Aren't you funny," she said and smiled at him. "Don't worry. We'll defeat the Darkspawn with more conventional means – pointy sticks and all that."

That earned her a chuckle and Leliana sighed in relief. At least he wasn't cross.

"Just can't leave aside the Princess Stabbity, eh?"

"Oh you know me. I'm dangerous like that."

"And that's why you frighten me." Alistair's posture relaxed. He seemed tired. "Though seriously. How'd you do it?"

"Hmm? How'd I do what?"

"Be all dangerous and nefarious and seductive-y. Was there a trick to it?"

 _Hmm_. "Everyone can be seduced by the right woman, Alistair. The trick is predicting who she is, and becoming her."

"Right. Scary." He scratched his cheek.

"Still think you're immune?"

"I _know_ I am."

She laughed. "I suppose we shall never know."

Alistair turned and smirked at her. "Why not? Afraid you'd fail?"

"I'm more afraid I'll strip you of your dignity," she responded with a smirk of her own before shrugging. "In all seriousness Alistair, we are relying on each other. It would be unwise to have a relationship based on insincerity, yes?"

She _really_ hoped he understood what she was trying to convey. _I want there to be trust between us. Enough for something like that._

Alistair smiled and shrugged, turning back to the fire. "Yeah, that'd be dumber than a second coat of paint."

Leliana felt the need to say something further. To provide some sense of reassurance. Though of what kind, she did not know. It was... confusing. She knew she wanted him, but there was no meaning in forcing herself on him. She wanted something... more. Something more than frivolous attraction, and she wasn't sure whether Alistair was of the same mind. Romance was not something they'd taken the time to discuss overmuch.

"Maybe I'll turn _my_ charms on _you_."

 _That_ surprised her into a chortle. "Hah! Now _that_ would be something to see. He _thinks_ he'll charm me."

"What, you think I can't? Clearly you've never been exposed to the awkward, virgin Templar boy charm. Works wonders, let me just tell you. Ask Solona."

"I didn't say that. I said it would be something to see, didn't I?"

"I suppose it's worth a shot." Alistair paused and grinned. "Just to see how spectacularly I fail at it. Hmm, now that _would_ be something."

"No, don't say that!" Leliana held up her fists encouragingly. "I'm sure you'll be fine! Just be yourself. If it'll make you feel better, I can always fake being charmed?"

"Oh I'd hate for you to fake _anything_ with me."

"Ooh, very clever! I see what you did there."

In response, Alistair smirked at her and raised his left eyebrow. "You know you want me, Leli."

It was true, but the way he said it with that look on his face just made her giggle. She slapped his shoulder as she laughed. "Silly boy! That was so clonky. Try again."

He shrugged good-naturedly. "Least it made you laugh. You think it's cute."

"Maybe." She grinned. "You're tricky."

"I'm positively nefarious. It's the awkward, virgin Templar boy charm, you know? Tried and tested. Though I was wondering..."

"Hmm?"

"Will you teach me how to be the right woman to seduce others?"

"...dare I ask?"

"Oh I just want to freak out Aedan with my lonely lady Alistair routine." He placed his hands over his pectorals as if adjusting a towel and then patted the back of his head as if making sure his bun was still in shape. "See, I've got the action down, but I don't have the words."

Leliana fell over laughing.

"Oh come on! That's good stuff! I worked hard on that!"

Wiping away the tears from her eyes but unable to do away with her grin, Leliana said, "Let me show you how to do it right."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

"You know, I never really knew him. Never really knew whether he knew... who I was," Alistair said quietly when he felt Leliana come stand by him. "I think he did though. I think that's why he had Duncan send me to the tower instead of sending me to the field. I guess he was looking out for me in his own way."

He turned and smiled tightly at Leliana when she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll be alright," he said before she could ask. "It's just... this place, you know? This is where everything went to shit. This is where they all... where he..." He sighed deeply. "It's just hard, you know? Coming back here. But it was worth it too."

Leliana said nothing and he was grateful for that. There really wasn't anything _to_ say. It was a bizarre situation. Alistair thought that coming back to Ostagar would be a whirlwind of emotions, but instead all he had felt was a strange sense of hollowness. Her mere presence was a comfort more than anything words could provide.

So they watched the embers rise from his half-brother's funeral pyre. The darkspawn had stripped him naked and strung him up on a cross to rot. There was hardly anything left to burn after almost a year.

Other than Goldanna – whom Alistair wanted to meet one day – Cailan had been all the family he'd had. Not the best perhaps, but he was a good man. His only crime was having too much hope. Foolish, maybe, but Alistair wouldn't begrudge him that. Being an idiot doesn't beget death.

"We found some... letters," she said quietly and Alistair turned fully to look at her. "In the King's chest itself. Aedan wanted you to have a look at them."

There were three pieces of parchment. Three letters.

The first one was from Empress Celene of Orlais, promising assistance in the form of troops to Ferelden. She'd asked Cailan to look past the bitter history between the two countries – that they needed to stand together during the Blight.

The second one was from Bann Teagan, Arl Eamon's brother, beseeching the King to not ride into the field with the Wardens, stating that should he fall, Ferelden would be left without any heirs. He went on further to state that the Queen was approaching her thirtieth year and was yet to deliver a child. There was a chance that it might not happen and he'd asked Cailan to put Anora aside and find someone else.

The third one was the shortest and by far the most interesting:

 _Cailan,_

 _The visit to Ferelden will be postponed indefinitely, due to the darkspawn problem. You understand, of course?_

 _The darkspawn have odd timing, don't they? Let us deal with them first. Once that is done, we can further discuss a permanent alliance between Orlais and Ferelden._

It wasn't signed, but the handwriting was reminiscent of Empress Celene of Orlais. Comparing it with the first letter left little doubt in his mind.

"As you can see, this one appears to have been crumpled up and then flattened out and folded again," Leliana said and Alistair nodded. It was quite apparent. "So whoever read this-"

"-got mad and rolled it up into a ball," he finished for her. "Then calmed down and tried to smooth it out again."

"Exactly. But who?"

"What do you mean? It was meant for Cailan. Who else would-" Alistair stopped as a thought struck him. "No. Shit. If Loghain-"

"-saw this, he would be infuriated." Leliana nodded. "Or even Anora, for that matter." She paused. "And if we consider that Cailan saw it himself, him crumpling it up could signal frustration. That can only mean that he was looking forward to Celene's visit to secure a permanent alliance."

"You mean a marriage."

"Yes."

"But it could easily have been Loghain too. He was the military advisor after all. He could have intercepted this." He held up the final letter. "And honestly, if I read this and the other two, I would want to strangle Cailan myself. Loghain loves Anora. If Cailan was getting ready to dump his daughter, I can believe Loghain was getting ready to bid _adieu_ to Cailan too, but in a more permanent fashion."

He looked up from the letters to find Leliana smiling wryly at him. At first he didn't understand why, but when he did, he smiled grimly too.

"Just because I understand why he did," he said, "doesn't mean I'll ever condone it."

"Nobody will ever ask you to, Alistair. Nobody."

He sighed and handed her back the letters. Leliana folded them neatly and placed them in a pouch on her belt.

"Is that all you found?"

 _Other than Cailan's armour, of course._

"We also found King Maric's longsword."

Alistair raised his eyebrows at that. That was one thing he would have liked to see. "I've heard that it's all glow-y and shiny. Is it?"

"Why not come see for yourself?"

At that, Alistair looked back at the pyre. He smiled at Leliana. "In a bit."

She nodded in understanding. "There was also... something else I found." She held out a sheathed rondel dagger. "I thought you would... want to have a look."

He took it, somewhat curious. It wasn't like Leliana to be fumbling over her words over a knife. Then he looked down at the hilt and knew exactly why.

There was a small inscription going around the hexagonal handguard of the dagger. The engraving was familiar. _In peace, vigilance. In war, victory. In death, sacrifice_. The motto of the Grey Wardens.

With a trembling hand, Alistair unsheathed the dagger.

It was silverite. The edges were thick, built for piercing armour – maille and padded armour. The blade was about twelve inches in length. But the most suggestive feature was the insignia of the Grey Wardens engraved on the ricasso, a griffon with wings outstretched.

Alistair felt a lump form in his throat. "This... this is... this dagger belonged to Duncan." It got very hard to speak suddenly. "That's his... that's his crest."

"I thought... I thought maybe you would want it," he heard Leliana say and looked up at her. She looked uncertain, looking down at her boots and digging the toes into the ground. "You said you wanted something to remember him by."

"Thank you." He absolutely hated how his voice broke. "Thank you, I..." He hated how his vision clouded over and he clapped his free hand onto his face to stop the tears from falling.

Alistair remembered very clearly the last time he'd cried. It had been ages ago, when he was six or seven, years before he was to be shipped off to Bournshire. His cat, Mister Socks, had died and he'd been inconsolable. That was when he'd learned that things die, that he would die, along with everyone around him. There was comfort in that knowledge somehow. He didn't really know how else to explain it.

It was what had kept him from breaking down after the massacre at Ostagar almost a year ago. _Everybody dies. That's just how it is_. But now, just because of a bloody _fucking_ dagger-

He felt her arms wrap around him then, felt her shoulders tuck under his, felt her cheek against his chest.

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's okay to be sad."

 _I know that._

"You have been brave, Alistair. You have been everything we needed you to be," she continued in that gentle Orlesian lilt. "You deserve a reprieve to let down your burdens."

 _I-_

"Let go, Alistair. It's okay."

And he did. He let his shoulders quake and he let the sobs break out and he let the tears fall. Not because he felt the need to do so. Not because the sorrow was too much to bear. Everything died, after all.

Alistair cried because not everything that died _deserved_ to die. Some things... they were worth protecting and treasuring and keeping alive. He cried because the guilt of being unable to save the people who had been so precious to him was melting away and he didn't want to forget that pain. He didn't want to go back to being complacent. He wanted to always remember what it was like to lose everything.

But he knew that it was a stupid sentiment. He would never forget. It would always be there, always be a part of him no matter what. It would always serve as a reminder to do better, for the ones who were still around and mattered.

He had people he needed to protect now without the past weighing down on him any longer. So, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

Alistair lowered his face into Leliana's shoulder and cried because finally, _finally,_ he felt that it was okay to let go.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Leliana was flustered. Being hugged by Alistair had not been the best thing for her hormones.

On the one hand, she was glad. She was really glad that he'd chosen to be his most vulnerable with her. That he trusted her enough for that. But on the other... well...

She'd told herself – repeatedly – that it was a moment of weakness for him, that he really only needed the support. But the truth of the matter was that having his arms around her and being pulled so close and having his face nuzzled into her shoulder had elicited a physical need she usually kept dormant.

It was hard not to be affected. She had feelings for the man, and then to have been in his arms and being unable to do anything... it would frustrate anyone.

Not that she would have acted on her desires. _What kind of friend would I be? I'm not here to take advantage of him!_ She still had a sense of propriety. It was all that was stopping her from confessing what she felt for him.

Leliana knew that she would have to tackle that particular problem one day, but now wasn't the time. _Not now. And definitely not here._

Confessing to someone in the midst of battle – though romantic – wasn't really how she wanted it to go. She wanted to sit down with him and have a long, personal talk. That was hard to manage while putting arrows in the eyeballs of darkspawn.

"What do they send next? Darkspawn tax collectors?" Morrigan muttered from somewhere behind her and Leliana chuckled. It was the first them they'd been attacked at camp, though she believed that it was partly due to having chosen to spend the night at Ostagar. The old fort was on the outskirts of the Korcari Wilds, where the Blight was said to have begun. That very morning they'd cleared the ruins of darkspawn. It wasn't surprising that they'd sought to retaliate under the cover of darkness.

The only bit of warning they received was in the form of Aedan and Alistair – who had both been asleep – waking up at the exact same time and calling everyone to attention. The attack came seconds later. There had been no time to armour up. Only Sten was fully in armour. Leliana would not be surprised if the Qunari slept in his armour.

By then the fighting had died down. The attack had been quick and fierce, but they'd been able to repel it. Leliana walked around the bodies, making sure they really _were_ dead.

"Can't get a good night's rest," Oghren moaned as he sat atop the chest of a dead hurlock, drinking ale from a flask. He grinned when she came near. "You want a taste, hotstuff?"

Leliana nocked an arrow and shot it between his legs. It thudded into the hurlock's ribcage. Oghren looked down at the arrow and then up at her. A few inches north, and it would've found another target entirely.

"It was twitching," she replied with a shrug.

"He was _twitching_ ," Oghren thundered, "because he's got my axe embedded in his nervous system!" He elucidated his point by giving the haft of his axe a nudge, making the dead darkspawn twitch.

She laughed, thinking up a witty comeback, when she heard collective swearing and gasping and turned back.

Solona lay on the ground, a gaping wound across her chest and stomach. Wynne was already closing it, but even from a distance, she could see the girl shrivelling up before her eyes. Her usually rosy cheeks were deflated, the skin going taut and veins and blood vessels sticking out against it.

She was blighted, Leliana realised, horrified. Nobody ever recovered from that.

"No. Nope. Nope nope nope nope nope. No. Nuh-uh. Not on my watch," Alistair said as he stomped over. Faren, who'd been cradling her head on his lap, looked up at him in surprise.

"But... she's been..."

"I bloody know," he snapped and wheeled around on Zevran. "You. Run to my tent. You'll find a white goblet with some blood in it. Bring that here." When Zevran sped away, he looked around at the others. "Get some vials and collect as much blood from the darkspawn as you can. Aedan, you stay here."

Leliana still didn't get what it was all in aid of, but she complied. Alistair had Solona's best interests in mind and if getting some blood helped save her, she would gladly do so. She only hoped it _did_ help her.

"Morrigan, fetch some lyrium," Alistair said as the others brought back two or three vials of blood each. "Rest of you, dump those vials in this here goblet. Leli, pass it along. Faster, faster. Aedan, off with the amulets, mate."

She'd noticed how they both wore identical amulets. She didn't realise that they were in any way significant. What surprised her most was how Morrigan obeyed without a word. _Maybe she cares for Solona more than I thought she did._

After the lyrium was mixed, Aedan and Alistair both broke their amulets and poured blood into the goblet. Leliana crinkled her nose. _Why would you carry around blood in an amulet?_

"All right. Faren, lift her head up. Wynne, I know it's gross, but you're going to have to make her drink it," Alistair said. When the elderly mage looked up at him as if he'd lost his mind, he smiled bitterly. "All of it."

Then he handed it off to Wynne and knelt by Solona and waved Leliana over.

"D'you know how to feel a pulse?"

"Well, yes."

"Check hers."

So she did. It was weak and dropping quickly. It dropped further and further still as Wynne made her drink the... concoction. Then it faded altogether.

The elderly mage looked at her sadly. Leliana shook her head. "She's-"

"Give it a moment," Alistair muttered and gripped her shoulder. His grip was strong. "Give it a moment."

She was about to argue but stopped herself when she felt her pulse return. Weak at first, but growing stronger and stronger until it levelled out. It was higher than normal.

Solona heaved a deep breath. Her chapped lips quivered. Her eyelids fluttered. She was alive! Feverish, but alive! _Maker be thanked!_

"You saved her," Wynne exclaimed in astonishment. "How?"

"I didn't save her," Alistair said and Leliana turned to him. He seemed sad. "Not really."

"Alright everybody back away, give her some space to breathe," Aedan said as he herded everybody away. "Morrigan, see to burning these bastards. Sten, you're on guard with Faren. Nobody sleeps tonight."

It was a shared sentiment. Leliana knew there would be no more sleep to be had. She was just happy that Solona was going to be okay.

 _Speaking of which._

"How did you know what to do?" Leliana asked curiously as she went and stood by Alistair, who was peering into the forest. "I didn't think the blight could be cured."

"You're right. It can't be."

"But you-"

He sighed. "Leli, it's a Warden secret, but since you all just saw it, I don't think it's a secret anymore. Everyone's gonna be asking about it soon enough. And you deserve to know anyway."

Alistair paused, but she knew she wouldn't have to prod. So she just waited.

"The taint _can't_ be cured," he said after a while. "Some die within the hour. Some turn into ghouls, losing their sanity and health over decades. But there are... ways to prolong the effects of the taint from corrupting you. One way is to drink darkspawn blood spiked with lyrium." He smiled at her. "That's how we become Wardens, you know. We drink the blood of darkspawn. We get partially tainted. It's what makes us immune. The ceremony is called the Joining."

"So Solona-"

"Will be a Grey Warden when she wakes up, yes." He waved a hand. "Not all of us make it, however. Three died at my Joining. Two at Aedan's. That amulet? We carry around the blood of the fallen, so that we may never forget. Also a bit from the chalice we're made to drink from. What we administered to Solona wasn't exactly what we'd do with recruits, but it's as close as we can come with limited resources."

She nodded, digesting it all. "And are there... side-effects to this?"

He looked amused. "Oh you know. We go bonkers in about thirty years or so. We can't have kids. We can sense the darkspawn and they in turn can sense us. Fun stuff." He shrugged. "Oh and we eat lo-"

"Alistair," she said quietly, stopping him. "Please."

 _Just be serious about this for once._

"Sorry." He scratched the back of his head. "What happens is you can hear the Archdemon's song in your head. Like those poor bastards down in the Deep Roads. Remember 'em?" She nodded. "It takes about thirty years for the song to really intensify in your head, though it depends from person to person. You can't think, you can't sleep. Some go mental. So when you feel it coming, you go to Orzammar, enter the Deep Roads and fight darkspawn till you die. Otherwise you turn into a ghoul and that's just no fun at all."

 _The Maker smiles sadly on his Grey Wardens, as no sacrifice is greater than theirs._

They'd always said that at the Chantry. Leliana had thought that it was because they were the only ones capable of combating a Blight. But the truth was much, much more unfair.

Silently, Leliana reached up and cupped his face, bringing it down so she could press her forehead to his.

"Why did you never tell me?" she asked, sighing tremulously when he wrapped her arms around her waist.

"I didn't want you thinking of me as a dying invalid," he replied simply.

Leliana bit her lip. _This is just... absolutely unfair_. She gently brushed her nose along his. "I would never."

"Yes, well. A fragile ego is all we men have, you know."

She smiled at that. As did he.

"Alist-"

"Leli-"

They began but stopped at the same time upon hearing a twig snap and sprang apart just as Aedan came up on them and stopped himself.

 _Every. Bloody. Time! The world's gone around to interrupt all the good moments!_

"I didn't expect anybody to be around _here_ ," he said. He was clad in his armour, sword and shield at the ready.

"Going somewhere?" Alistair asked.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Into the wilds."

Leliana blinked in confusion. "Why?"

"I need to see a witch about another," Aedan replied and exchanged a look with Alistair, who tensed up immediately.

"Why?"

"I'll explain later." The man smiled and patted his shoulder. "Good job back there, Alistair. But I have to go now. If I'm not back by daybreak, I know now that I can count on you to finish what we started."

"What is going on here?" Leliana asked at length. "What're you saying?"

"He's going to visit an old friend," Alistair told her and then turned back to Aedan. "But he's not going alone."

Aedan laughed. "You're right. I'm not."

A loud burp was heard as Oghren came ambling after Aedan.

"Certainty of death. Small chance of success." He drank from his flask as he passed them by. "What're we waiting for, Boss?"

Leliana saw Alistair pinch his eyes.

"I'll get suited up," he said. "I don't trust you with him."

"I'll come too," she said.

"No you're not."

"I said I'm coming, didn't I?"

Oghren laughed as he entered the forest. "That's what _she_ said."

 _One of these days, I'll cut off that damn dwarf's beard._


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

"So... are we going to _talk_ about how Morrigan's mother moonlights as a dragon?" Alistair looked around. "No? Okay."

It had been an interesting stroll through the woods, to say the least. What better way to spend the night than being slapped around by Darkspawn and shapeshifting mages in quick succession?

 _Ah, if only I could take a holiday._

"Flemeth is old," Leliana said, "and shapeshifting is very ancient magic, or so I'm told."

"Didn't move like a pile of old bones," Aedan muttered. "Sprightly as a young maiden running off with her lover, Maker."

Alistair chuckled. "You really think she would've taken Morrigan's body? Is that even possible?"

"You're the Templar. You tell me."

"Wouldn't know. Had I kept at it, maybe they'd have let me in on the good stuff."

"What little you _do_ know saved us, Alistair," Leliana reminded him. "Who knows what may have happened otherwise."

"My _hero_ ," Aedan supplied from the other side.

While it was true that Smiting had worked just as well on Flemeth in her dragon form, Alistair didn't feel particularly heroic. Being tail slapped by a dragon had shattered his breastplate and he'd sprained his ankle after being smacked into a tree. He'd made it back to camp only because of Aedan and Leliana's support.

Wynne, Morrigan and Zevran had secured the campsite with all manner of traps, both magical and mechanical. That had allowed them to sleep once Wynne had sorted out Alistair's foot.

Now, after consuming a heavy lunch, the party was resting. Wynne was by Solona's bedside, who'd woken up around midday. She seemed fine, if weak. Aedan had decided to break the news to her later on, after having explained the situation to the others. Alistair did not envy him.

"So d'you think she's dead, then?" Alistair asked him. Aedan had, after all, delivered the finishing blow. "Flemeth I mean."

"No, I don't think so. Neither does Morrigan." He smiled darkly. "Someone as wily as Flemeth... take more than that to kill her, I reckon."

"So what'll you do if she comes after Mor-"

"I'll kill her again," Aedan snapped. "I'll kill her as many times as she shows her face. I've lost _enough_. Anybody tries to take what I have left, they _die_."

With that, he got up and carried his empty bowl towards the pond to rinse it clean. Alistair watched him go. _You just_ had _to leave me alone with her? Right. Time to make awkward conversation!_

Turning to Leliana, he said, "He can be scary sometimes."

"Perhaps, but I understand his sentiments."

"As do I." He sighed and chewed on the last piece of potato in his bowl. "In hindsight, this was a good thing, I think."

"Hmm?"

"I'll forever get to lord over Morrigan. Tell her that she owes not having her body snatched to this ol' fool of a Templar."

Smiling, Leliana shook her head. "Silly. But I was thinking..."

"What?"

"Flemeth saved your life, yes? After you were overpowered at the tower?"

"Yes. That's what she told us, anyway."

"And you helped kill her. How does that make you feel?"

Alistair took a deep breath and hummed. He hadn't thought of it that way. Biting the hand that feeds you... not exactly the best thing in the world to do.

"The way I see it," he said as he lay down on the grass and folded his hands behind his head, "is that Flemeth, while she saved us, also tried to sabotage our party. Morrigan, horrible as she is, is still a valued comrade. Losing her would significantly reduce our chances of ending the Blight. So in this case, it's justified as far as I'm concerned. Never really liked the old crone, you know? Too nutty."

When Leliana didn't reply, Alistair turned to look at her. She sat there, one leg drawn up and the other folded. She seemed to be staring at the grass, but her eyes were distant. As if she were replaying some long-lost memory in her head. She hummed when he called her name, but didn't look at him.

"Leli, are you okay?"

"Yes. Just... thinking."

Something she didn't feel like sharing, then. Alistair looked up, watching the winter sun trying to find a way to reach him through the foliage. He closed his eyes and smiled.

"You know, after all that happened to Solona, I'm really starting to appreciate how ephemeral everything is. We're all of us trying to reach... somewhere. Some of us make it. Some don't. All they leave behind is regret. I don't want to be like that." He opened his eyes and looked at her again. Found her looking at him, cheek resting on her knees and hair falling over her face. She looked beautiful. "I'm glad we're going to Denerim next. I want to look someone up. I'm afraid if I don't, I might not get the chance later."

"Would this be some former lover of yours?"

"A former _what_? No. No!" Alistair sat up bolt upright. "D'you really think I'd suggest to go see... with _you?!_ No! I was talking about my sister!"

Now she was grinning. "You have a sister?"

"Mmm yeah. Half-sister, I suppose. A daughter my mother had before she met the King. I only learned about her after joining the Wardens. Did some checking. Turns out she lives in Denerim."

"But that's _wonderful_ news! Have you contacted her?"

Rubbing the back of his head, Alistair said, "No. I doubt she even knows I exist."

"And you want to meet her."

"I guess? I mean, she's the only family I have left, you know? The only family not mixed up with the whole royal thing." He shrugged. "Maybe I can help her, warn her of the dangers. Help her evacuate, I don't know. "

"I think you should."

"I think I should, too." He lay back down. "Her name's Goldanna. She remarried, I think. Lives outside the Alienage, as far as I remember."

"That's good. You've been thorough with your checking."

"I had to be. But anyways, I was hoping maybe you could accompany me?" He felt like an idiot as soon as he said it. "I get nervous and tend to blabber and you can slap some sense into me, I mean."

With a little laugh, Leliana nodded. "Of course, Alistair. I would love to accompany you. I'd like to meet your sister myself."

"Thanks, Leli." He smiled at her. "This means a lot."

"Oh, don't mention it. Though I wonder..."

"What?"

"Why are you so against taking _me_ to meet former lovers?"

 _I knew it! I knew it'd come back to bite me in the arse! Bloody gingers._

In a poor attempt to hide his blush, Alistair turned away from Leliana but couldn't shield himself from her giggles. He frowned to himself.

"Oh, shut up."


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

"This is it," Alistair said, swinging his arms back and forth. "This is the address, I'm sure of it. She could be inside. On the other side of the door."

Leliana hummed noncommittally. "Shall we go inside?"

Her words went unheard as Alistair continued talking. "Will she even know who I am? Does she even know I exist? My sister." He shook his head. "That sounds very strange... 'sister.' Siiiiiiisssster. My goodness, I think my tongue just died."

"Alistair?"

"Well, I'm babbling now. Haha. Can't go in like that. We should just go. Yes. Go. Let's."

"Oh no, you don't." Leliana caught him by the bicep as he turned to bolt. "Loghain's off to seize Bann Telmen's lands. Denerim is enemy-free right now! This might be the only chance you ever get!"

"But–"

Leliana whirled him around and pushed him towards the door. "No buts. Not unless you want me to go all Stabbity?"

Alistair dug his heels in, making it difficult to budge him. "I think I'd prefer that, actually."

"Alistair, you came all this way just because you wanted to meet your sister. If you don't do this, you'll regret it for all your life. You said so yourself."

A sigh. "I did, didn't I? Well, all right then. I'll go meet my long-lost sister." He turned and smiled nervously at her. "But I'm doing it just for you."

She smiled back. "Flattered. Now go."

"You're still coming, right?"

"Yes, yes."

It was a small house; two-storeyed but otherwise unremarkable, just like every other house in the vicinity. Alistair's sister greeted them as soon as they crossed the threshold, mistaking them for potential clients who needed some washing done. _A washerwoman, then_. Leliana had to admit, she didn't see much of a resemblance but it was always possible that she took more after their mother. Even King Cailan hadn't been much similar to Alistair at first glance.

However, it became quickly apparent that the two siblings were nothing like each other. As soon as Alistair introduced himself, Goldanna's entire disposition changed.

"You! I knew it! They told me you was dead!" She didn't sound very happy about it. "They told me the babe was dead along with Mother, but _I_ knew they was lyin'!"

Alistair's eyebrows shot up. "They told you I was dead? Who? Who told you that?"

But Goldanna didn't reply readily. She had her fists clenched by her side, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet with her eyes closed and jaw clenched. When she opened her eyes again, Leliana knew she was ready to explode.

 _Oh dear._

"Them's at the castle! I told them the babe was the king's, and they said he was dead. Gave me a coin to keep my mouth shut and sent me on my way! I knew it!"

She got louder and faster as she talked and Alistair flinched from the venom in her voice. Leliana felt bad for him, she really did. It wasn't his fault.

"I'm sorry. I... didn't know that. The babe didn't die. I'm him; I'm your brother," he tried again, but it just wasn't meant to be.

"Fat loada good that does me!" She was pacing like a caged beast now, her eyes fixed upon Alistair. "You killed Mother, you did, and I've had to scrape by all this time? That coin didn't last long, and when I went back, they ran me off!"

Leliana decided then that enough was enough. _This was a bad idea_. So she put her hand on Alistair's shoulder and said, "I think we should leave."

Big mistake. Goldanna now focused on her.

"And who in the Maker's name are you? Some tart, following after his riches, I expect?"

A tart?! Why I–

"Don't speak to her that way," Alistair said aggressively before she could even open her mouth. "She's my friend, helping us Wardens end the Blight."

Goldanna scoffed at that. "Oh, I see. A prince and a Grey Warden, too. Who am I to think poorly of someone so high and mighty compared to me?" Sarcastic contempt was practically dripping from her every word. "I don't know you, boy. Your royal father forced himself on my mother and took her away from me, and what do I got to show for it? Nothing! Oh, they tricked me good! I shoulda told everyone!" She jabbed a finger into her own chest and held up her head. "I've got five mouths to feed and unless you can help with that, I got less than no use for you."

Alistair took a step back after that onslaught. "I... I'm sorry. I... don't even know what to say."

Goldanna took a quick step forward and Leliana almost reached for her knives, but the woman only snarled at Alistair. "I don't know why you came or what even you expected to find, but it isn't here! Now get out of my house, the both of you, before I call the guards!"

Leliana didn't need more incentive to leave. She gently caught Alistair's bicep and pulled the dazed man out. She walked him away the house and towards the market, hoping it would help.

After a while, Alistair said, "Well. That was not what I expected. To put it mildly."

Leliana said nothing. Let him ramble.

" _This_ is the family I've been wondering about all my life? That _shrew_ is my sister? I can't believe it." He paused and shook his head. "I was expecting her to just... accept me unconditionally, I guess. Isn't that what family's supposed to do?" He glanced back at Goldanna's house and shook his head again. "I feel like a complete bloody idiot."

Honestly, she didn't even know what to say. Leliana had been taught to approach all problems from every angle imaginable and as such, she could see both sides to this. An estranged brother desperately trying to find somewhere to belong. An estranged sister who has suffered all her life and wanted nothing more than financial security. It wasn't outrageous, her claim, but Goldanna could have – and should have – phrased it better.

"Come here," Leliana said quietly and led him away from the stalls. With the tip of her boot, she started drawing lines on the ground. "You are familiar with the Tevinter number system, yes?"

"Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"Look," Leliana told him, having finished with her handiwork. "Tell me if you agree."

As Alistair studied the symbols on the dirt, she did too.

IX = X + I

"Nine equals ten plus one?" Alistair said, both impatient and puzzled. "Leli, what is this?"

"Is it correct?"

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay." Holding his bicep, she walked him around the simple equation and took him to the other side. "How about now?"

I + X = XI

Alistair said nothing, only blinked in surprise. Leliana placed her cheek on his shoulder.

"Sometimes, all you need is a change of perspective to recognise someone else's truth. Goldanna has suffered greatly, Alistair. She is unsatisfied with her life but is powerless to do anything about it. other than blame herself, she finds it easier to blame you. The prince. She thinks on the could-have-beens. You alleviating her poverty and keeping her in affluent surroundings. In her mind, you owe her that. In reality, you don't owe her a thing."

Alistair didn't say anything.

Leliana sighed. "It's not your fault, Alistair. You have to be good to yourself, because chances are that everybody else is just out for themselves. You know that now."

At long last, he said, "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Are you ready to go? Aedan should have found Brother Genitivi by now."

"Yeah. Just... give me a moment."

Leliana looked on as Alistair backtracked to Goldanna's door, unstringing his purse from his belt as he did so. He then dropped the purse through one of the open windows and walked back to her. She didn't say anything. He just shrugged.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Leliana nodded. "Okay."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

"I've never heard of there being a village up around here before," Alistair said as he held out his palms towards the fire. "Have you?"

Leliana shook her head. "Everything feels a bit... off, I think. It isn't normal." She paused as the firewood cackled. "Or maybe it's just the weather."

It was bitterly cold. Winter was already upon them, and to attempt to make their way up to a village, that may or may not be nestled into the Frostbacks, was as close to lunacy as they'd come on their campaign. It had Alistair worried.

As it turned out, he wasn't the only one. Morrigan and Sten had both independently voiced their doubts. While Morrigan had been passive-aggressive with her usual scorn and sarcasm, Sten had been much more direct. He'd asked what all this was in aid of. And honestly, Alistair had to accept his logic. No matter what Loghain said, it _was_ a Blight. To have the two remaining Grey Wardens – _three now_ , he thought – be off on a wild goose chase to 'freeze to death while digging for the bones of a madwoman,' according to Morrigan, which, _according to legend_ , had _magical healing properties_ at a time when they were needed most to combat the Darkspawn... it all seemed ridiculous.

Aedan had been able to assuage both of their doubts for the time being. He'd told Sten to consider this as training for what was to come ahead, which the Qunari had been willing to accept. Morrigan, he'd talked to in private.

"D'you think we're on a wild goose chase across the country, Leli? That this is all pretty useless?"

"You mean trying to find the Urn of Sacred Ashes?"

Alistair nodded. "These... cultists. They killed the real Weynon and installed a false one to lead anyone who came looking for Brother Genitivi to Lake Calenhad Docks. There, more cultists make sure that whoever arrives looking for Genitivi stays dead. I mean, it makes no sense. What if this thing about Haven was also a plant? What if we have a village full of lunatics ready to cut us up as soon as we reach it?"

Leliana laughed, a quiet sound like a bell tinkling. He found it so adorable that he almost missed her words.

"Would that be so different from everywhere else we've been?"

"Well... no. Actually now that I think of it, we've spent an _unhealthy_ amount of time killing people who've wanted to kill us."

"Regretting your life choices, oh brave Grey Warden mine?"

He chuckled. "You wish."

The conversation reached a natural lull and Alistair gazed outwards, watching the powdery snow fall relentlessly. They'd set up their camp in a large cave to escape the elements. It had been a lucky find and Aedan had called for camp early in the afternoon. Wise decision on his part, otherwise they'd have been dead from exposure by then.

Most of the party had crawled into their tents and succumbed to sleep. The tents had all been pitched around a central fire, with Morrigan actually joining them for once. Alistair looked back over his shoulder at Solona's tent, found no movement from within and looked at the mouth of the cave again.

Their newest addition to the Warden ranks had taken the news pretty well. Heroically, given the circumstances. Alistair didn't wish it on her – on anyone, really – but if they survived the Blight, he was sure Solona would make a great Warden.

Of course, if she wanted to return to the Circle, he doubted anybody would stop her. He certainly wouldn't.

A loud giggle from Oghren's tent broke Alistair's train of thought completely. He shook his head.

"What's that reprobate doing up at this hour?" he muttered.

"Do you really want to know?"

"No."

Smiling, Leliana sidled up closer against him and threw her cloak around the both of them. Then she laid her head on his shoulder and hummed. "You looked like you were cold."

 _If I was, I'm certainly very hot now my goodness Orlesians are bold what–_

"Th-thanks," he muttered, pulling it tighter against him. It was warm. "It's gotten pretty cold, huh?"

She chuckled at that. "You're _such_ a typical Fereldan."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"When in doubt, talk about the weather. You _all_ do it."

"No we don't!"

"You know, I did a stint in a brothel once, serving tea. The customers never knew whether I was up for selling my services, so they always started by asking me what I thought of the weather." She chuckled and snuggled closer. _Just kill me already_. "Fun times."

He cleared his throat. " _Tea_? In a _brothel_?"

She shrugged. "It was complementary."

It was a ridiculous thought. Ridiculous enough to make him smile and shake his head. "Y'know, I'm really jealous of you sometimes."

"Jealous of _me_?"

"Mhmm, yeah. You've been everywhere and done everything. And I'm here stuck freezing my butt off looking for something that, even if it exists, may not even help." He sighed. It was cold enough for him to see his breath. "Sometimes, I wish I had your confidence."

"What you think of as my confidence is mostly faith, Alistair."

"Faith? In the Maker, you mean?"

She nodded. "'Within my Creation, none are alone,' He told Andraste. That gives me some sense of solace. I do not think having faith in the Maker is a crutch. It isn't something I say with pride. It means that I stumbled in my way and He was there to guide me. Having that feeling... I suppose that gives one confidence to endure."

Alistair said nothing for a beat. "I don't know about all that. I can only talk about what I see." He turned to find her looking at him. "And all I see is a strong and capable woman who does the best she can despite everything going tits up around her. That's someone I can have faith in. And I guess that's good enough for me."

As he watched her, Alistair noticed a change in her. Like her eyes were somehow darker than usual. Like her lips trembled subtly. Or perhaps that was the fire casting shadows on her face and his mind playing tricks on him.

Then Leliana leant up and kissed his cheek and Alistair knew that his mind wasn't tricking him. It was a gentle, lingering touch, warm and moist at the same time. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear when she pulled away.

Before he could say anything, Leliana quickly got up and, hugging herself, went into her tent. Alistair sat there sat there looking at her tent flaps for a long while, but she didn't come back to collect her cloak. So he wrapped it tightly around him and willed his body to stop shivering. He cursed the cold but knew that had nothing to do with it.

Alistair had only one thought jumping around in his mind when sleep eventually took him.

 _Was it something I said?_


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

"Maker's Breath, look at it all!"

Brother Genitivi chuckled quietly at Alistair's words. "What I would have given to see this hall in all its splendour, as it was meant to be. But still. Sweep away the ice and snow and traces of beauty remain."

The grand hall of the Temple of Andraste, though covered in many centuries worth of dust and ice, was still breathtaking. The towering stone columns held aloft the vaulted roof. Leliana had to crane her head back painfully to see the whole thing.

"Is your leg alright, Brother?" she asked as the others milled about, taking in the scene.

Genitivi chuckled again and removed his arm from around her shoulder. She'd basically carried him to the temple. "Yes, my dear, thank you for asking. All the weeks of scant food and torture were worth it, I think, now that I have seen _this_. Thank you again for letting me come and supporting me. Maker smile upon you."

They'd found Genitivi in a hidden room in the Chantry of Haven, where he lay with a broken leg. He'd been captured and tortured by the residents, who had also murdered the knights from Redcliffe sent to look for him. The residents of Haven were all sorts of unhinged, slaughtering and torturing innocent people like that. Alistair had mentioned them being blood mages and Leliana would not put it past them.

After Wynne had set his leg, Aedan had requested him to return to Denerim and heal up, but the man had wanted to visit the Temple. Not even the news of Weylon's death had been able to change his mind. So ignoring everyone's pragmatic outlook, Leliana had decided to bring him along to see the Temple. After all the hard work and torture, he _deserved_ that much.

"You need to stay alert, Brother," Aedan said after walking up to Genitivi. "I doubt we've seen the last of these maniacs."

"True, but there aren't any here. And look," Genitivi pointed at the walls, "these carvings were created just after Andraste's death. They may reveal things about her life we may not yet know! I think I shall stay here and study the statues and carvings a while longer."

"It isn't safe," Leliana said immediately.

Aedan nodded his agreement. "Are you quite sure about this?"

Smiling, Genitivi shook his head. "I could never hope to keep up with you, what with my injuries. Go. Perhaps it was my destiny to lead you to the Urn. The rest, you must do yourselves."

"You've been a great help, Brother."

"Ah, it's my job," Genitivi answered as Aedan went ahead to tell the group of this development. He turned to Leliana and said, "All I ask is that you be careful, my dear. The Temple can be... perilous."

She smiled warmly at that. It filled her with fondness that this stranger, despite his own injuries, was more concerned for them than he was about himself. "Are you sure you'll be safe, Brother?"

"I'll be fine. I'm more concerned about not having anything to write on, honestly."

"I can help with that," Alistair said and pulled off his backpack. He'd been hovering near them until then. Soon, he produced a slim leather bound volume, an inkwell and a quill. "This is my journal. It's only half-full so feel free to pull out some pages from the back."

"Ah, thank you!" Genitivi took the items gratefully, beaming. "Thank you so much, my young friend! I don't know what to say!"

Alistair only grinned and left the man to his devices. Leliana gave him a once-over as she came up beside him. He frowned. "What? Why're you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing. I just never knew you had a journal."

"Well, I _do_. And I write in it every day."

"How interesting. What do you write about?"

"Just... stuff." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Y'know, I've been thinking..."

"Oh? What about?"

"Back when... back when we left Goldanna's..." Leliana looked at him. "You told me that I needed to look out for myself more than I do. I'm starting to think that you're right, honestly." He paused and took a deep breath. "I need to stop letting people make my decisions for me. I need to take a stand and think about myself for a change, or I'm never going to be happy."

Leliana raised her eyebrows. _This is a change_. "Well. Don't let me influence you, Alistair. If this is something you really want–"

"How can I not be, Leli?" he said, interrupting her. "Back in Haven, when everyone was telling Genitivi to go back and heal and come back later, I couldn't deny the sense in it. Going with us could've gotten him killed. While I felt bad for him, I didn't really see much sense in him coming with us. And yet." He shook his head. "And yet, you stood up to everyone for him. Said you'd protect him yourself if needs be. How can something like that not inspire people, Leli?"

She sincerely hoped that the semi-darkness hid her blush. "Oh. I–"

But whatever spirit had taken hold of Alistair wasn't done yet. He went on, "So from this point on, I'll be looking out for myself more. I should've done so a long time ago." He sighed again. "So I just wanted to thank you. Being with you... it's been the one bright spot out of _everything_ that's happened."

Leliana's heart _sang_. She couldn't help it. There was only so much she could take! What with last night, and now this? This was just unfair!

"I–I– " she swallowed. Focus! She looked at him shyly. "Don't thank me, Alistair. Thank yourself."

He just nodded and said, "Let's go find ourselves this urn, shall we?"


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

The Dragon Age was so named because dragons had been sighted in Thedas after centuries of being thought extinct. And not the ones that looked like scaly, toothy dogs that lived on horse meat. These were the _big_ ones. These were High Dragons, the ones that made the ground shake.

Alistair had read that dragons existed only to kill, that they fed on anything. Not even the dreaded Darkspawn were that savage.

But now that he was face-to-face with one, he didn't know what to make of the fact that it wasn't attacking. It was looking right at him, serpentine eyes locked with his, unmoving. It was hypnotic. Almost like it was peering into his soul.

None of the others dared move. The only sound came from the dragon itself as it breathed. Alistair gulped. _Flemeth's dragon form doesn't hold a candle to this_.

After what seemed like hours of staring, the dragon unfurled its wings and with a few powerful flaps, hoisted itself into the air and flew back to the mountaintop it probably called home. Alistair remained transfixed even after it was gone.

Zevran was the first to speak. "So that was abnormal, yes?"

"Very," Aedan replied. "I'm pretty sure that was the Andraste Kolgrim was talking about."

"A cult of dragon worshippers?"

"That's the only logical explanation I have."

"And yet after witnessing a dragon, you fools seem rather reluctant to hold your deliberations _inside_ the Temple, where the giant lizard cannot mistake you lot for treats."

Sound logic. For a _witch_. Alistair had to admit that the prospect of having a dragon swoop down on them wasn't ideal. He grimaced as the party made its way back to the Temple, having gathered a pinch of the ashes already.

 _I hope these magical ashes actually help Eamon._

They were quiet on the way back to the entrance, stepping around the bodies of slain dragonlings and cultists alike. The path to the Urn had been rife with obstacles, ranging from ghosts with riddles, intrusive questions from a guardian spirit and having to walk naked through fire. Alistair doubted Zevran would stop talking about the last one anytime soon.

The reward, however, had been worth it. All his life Alistair had been preached at by the Chantry about Andraste and her struggle and betrayal. Now, having seen that at least parts of the tale were true... it was truly humbling.

He hung back until he was beside Leliana and said, "Back at the fire-trial... you should know that I didn't look."

"Hmm?" she looked up, distracted. "Oh. It's all right, Alistair. I knew you wouldn't."

He hummed. "Something on your mind?"

She said nothing.

"It's what that guardian spirit said, isn't it?"

No reply.

Alistair took off his helmet and carried it under his arm. "For what it's worth, I think you're free to believe what you want to believe. I don't think–"

"He was right."

"Ehh?"

"The guardian. He said that people in the Chantry didn't believe me. That is true. But it is also true that I enjoyed the attention. Regardless of how negative it was." She shook her head. "But in no way did I ever think myself Andraste's equal."

This time it was Alistair who remained silent.

"It was part of why I wanted to come with you, really. I wanted to get away from it all. The Chantry does not do anyone any spiritual favours. Not anymore. It is more about controlling one's thoughts and policing one's speech. That is not what faith is supposed to be." She sucked in a breath. "What brought me to the folds of the Chantry was acceptance and forgiveness. Both seem to be on short supply these days."

"Maybe," Alistair said and ran his fingers through his hair. "The way I see it, you're free to interpret your faith in any way you wish, as long as it doesn't hurt somebody. Your claims of the Maker speaking to you and not them must've threatened them."

"I know now."

"The real question is whether you regret leaving. Whether you regret joining us on our merry quest to slay a dragon and save the world. And become complete psychopaths in the process."

A snort. "No, Alistair. I do not regret anything. Far from it, in fact."

"Hmm?"

"I've enjoyed every moment of this journey. Felt alive."

"Even when people and monsters have tried to kill us?"

"Pfft. Occupational hazard."

He had to laugh at that. His free hand Alistair looped around Leliana's shoulder and pulled her into a quick hug.

"That's more like it," he told her before letting go. He couldn't handle contact for much longer than a few moments. _I am such a loser_.

"Thank you, Alistair."

"Don't mention it."

One day, he'd grow out of the cocoon of awkwardness in which his interactions with Leliana were encased in, but it wouldn't be that day.

* * *

 **A/N: Happy New Year, folks! I hope good things come to you this year. See y'all in a few months!**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: No, not an April Fool's prank, my dearies.**

* * *

 **Chapter 32**

"Champion of Redcliffe... sounds nice, yes?"

She had meant to cheer Alistair up, but the man only grunted. Leliana waited for a while, hoping he would answer. And after a few moments, he did.

"Seems a bit much for getting some ashes, huh?"

Smiling, she came and stood beside him, gazing out at Lake Calenhad. "They are the holiest thing in existence – the remains of the Maker's Chosen. It seems almost... irreverent to use Her as a curative." She paused and crinkled her nose. "And also quite morbid."

"Well, whatever gets the job done, I suppose."

It was a cool winter's night in Redcliffe. The residents didn't yet know that the Arl had recovered. They would in the morning. Whatever properties Andraste's ashes had, they'd helped Arl Eamon recover. He'd spent most of the day catching up on everything he'd missed. After that, he'd insisted upon holding deliberations with the Wardens, where he'd disclosed his intention of calling for a Landsmeet to challenge Loghain. He'd also announced his decision to nominate Alistair for King.

 _We need someone who has a stronger right to the throne than Loghain's daughter, the Queen. Teagan and I have a right through marriage, but we'd be seen as usurpers and opportunists. Alistair's right comes by way of blood._

The sense in his words Leliana could see. She could also see that Alistair had been extremely distressed by this development. She knew how much he despised his heritage. And now, he might have to become a pawn on account of it. Zevran had offered to assassinate him for free should he become King, but Alistair had not been in the mood for jokes. Instead, he'd been talking to a man who'd shown up at Redcliffe looking for the Wardens.

"So what did this Dryden fellow want?" she asked him.

Alistair shrugged. "Levi... was a friend of Duncan's. I'd heard him mentioned a fair few times. He and Duncan had met when they were youngsters. Went on some journey with Maric after which the King allowed the Wardens to return to Ferelden."

"Why were they banished?"

"Sophia Dryden, Levi's great-great-grandmother, was the Warden-Commander of Ferelden some two hundred years ago." They both turned to see Aedan a few feet behind them. He came up and stood beside Leliana, keeping her between him and Alistair. "She was also the cousin of the then King Arland. When Arland was given the throne over her, she decided to push it. For this, she was imprisoned but spared after some time."

"Then she joined the Wardens and quickly rose to the top because she was so great. However, Arland was a bit of a tosser, so the Bannorn went to Sophia for help. Basically stage a rebellion and overthrow the evil King." Alistair sighed. "But the King caught wind of this and sent troops to the Wardens' fortress, Soldier's Peak."

"It was a long struggle that ended with the death of Sophia, after which the Wardens were banished from Ferelden until Maric let them back in." Aedan clasped his hands behind his back and swayed back and forth. "Of course, I know this because the Arland killed many Couslands, since Highever was an ally to the Wardens."

"Sorry my ancestor killed a bunch of yours," Alistair said.

"Yes, well, we're both the last of our lines, so that makes me feel a bit better," Aedan replied.

They looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes and shared an amused smirk. Then they extended their hands towards each other and bumped fists before opening their hands and wiggling their fingers together. Leliana shook her head.

 _Boys_.

"Anyway," Alistair said after clearing his throat. "Levi had Duncan promise to take back Soldier's Peak and help find evidence to clear his family's name."

"But since Duncan got busy with recruiting for the Blight and later with his death, he couldn't make it."

Leliana nodded, digesting all the information. "So... we are going to Soldier's Peak, then?"

"Well." Aedan pocketed his hands. "It _will_ take the Arl some time to gather his troops."

Alistair scratched the back of his neck. "And Duncan _did_ promise."

They both looked at her now and she smiled and shook her head. "You are both ridiculous. Where is Soldier's Peak, anyway? I have never heard of it."

"Levi has a map," Aedan said. "And on that subject, Alistair, I need to ask you something."

Leliana looked at him, but his gaze was fixed upon Alistair. All trace of levity had vanished. Alistair sighed.

"Look, I know what he's asking of me makes sense, I do."

"But do you _want_ to be King, Alistair?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"I asked what you wanted, Alistair." He paused momentarily. "Being King means you'll either have to rule alone or with Anora. Lots of power, but you'll be a puppet for life. Do what Eamon says, go where Eamon says... _marry_ whom Eamon asks you to." He stopped and Leliana felt her stomach knot up.

She couldn't place the feeling. Not really. It was a strange cocktail of jealousy, despair and dread. That something incredibly important, which had been within reach all this time, was suddenly slipping away. She'd been thinking on it ever since the Arl had made his intentions clear. She'd been trying to figure out what it meant for... them.

There was nothing there yet. No relationship to speak of. But she knew what she felt. And she had a feeling she knew what he felt, too. All that now seemed so distant.

When she realised that he hadn't answered, Leliana turned toward him. Alistair was already looking at her. So she gulped hard and smiled. "It's your decision," she said quietly.

And Alistair took a deep breath and shook his head. "No."

 _YEEEESSSSSS!_

She didn't say anything, though. That would have been inappropriate.

"Good." Aedan nodded and stepped away. "Now I'm off to bed."

As he turned to leave, Alistair asked him, "Wait, that's it?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure you two can figure out why you refused between yourselves." Aedan turned to face them with a wide smirk on his face as he walked backwards. "You leave the rest to me."

Then he turned and started walking towards the castle. Leliana knew that the only way to fight her blush was to say something, so she asked aloud, "But what will you do?"

"I'm going to bollocks it all up," came the answer.

Leliana just stared. Alistair scratched his cheek and said, "I am very glad Arland didn't kill off the Couslands."

She nodded mutely. _So am I._

"So, uh, d'you wanna go on a walk maybe?"

He was rubbing the back of his neck, digging into the ground with his boot, smiling shamefacedly as his blush spread over his cheeks. He looked absolutely adorable. Leliana could not have stopped her smile even if she'd wanted to.

"I would like that, yes."


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

"What were you talking about?" Alistair asked suspiciously. "What did she want? It was nothing good, was it? She told you I got Sophia Dryden's room, didn't she? I have a haunted room, don't I? I _knew_ I smelt rot in there! I'm telling you right now, Morrigan had something to do with it."

As far as he was concerned, _anything_ to do with Morrigan was bad news. It was a universal truth. Did the sun rise in the east? Yes. Were Orlesians weird? _Oui_. Was Morrigan trouble? Absolutely. The only thing worse than Morrigan was Morrigan talking to Leliana. Who knew what kind of witchy poison she'd be pouring down Leliana's ears!

The woman herself didn't appear much affected. Leliana had been smiling happily as Morrigan left, which had turned into a giggle at his words. "She was thanking me, Alistair."

 _What in the name of fuck?!_

"You–she–what?!" Alistair spluttered. The news was akin to having a Darkspawn come up to him and ask for sugar, or something. "She did _what_? To _you_? Why? _How_?"

Evidently, there was something amusing about his reaction because the redhead broke into laughter. "Oh, you silly. She wanted to thank me for my part in dealing with Flemeth."

 _Oh, this is much worse_. "Morrigan? Being nice? Are we talking about the same Morrigan, here? Witchy and bitchy? Turns into spiders to scare me? Made fun of me instead of helping me that one time I got dehydrated and started screaming about Darkspawn and running into trees?"

"To be fair, everybody laughed at that last one."

"She laughed the loudest, okay? But anyway, she thanked you? _Actually_ thanked you?"

"Yes, Alistair. She _actually_ thanked me."

"Well. That's something." Then a horrible, horrible thought struck him. "Oh _no_." Alistair paled. "She's going to thank _me too_ , isn't she?"

"I think she might."

Alistair rubbed his cheek nervously. _Need to shave soon_. "I'm going to have to stand near her and look at her and listen to her–damn you, Flemeth."

"You brought this on yourself," she said with a quiet laugh and started walking towards the tower Alistair falling in step beside her. "But how do you like your new headquarters?"

Twirling his latest acquisition–a metal rod–between his fingers, Alistair pondered on the question. Soldier's Keep had been a Warden fortress back in the day and was still in good shape, and was readily defensible from its place tucked into the mountains. But it was a sinister place with a dark history, and though the Veil was no longer a problem, the atmosphere still gave him goosebumps.

"It's a start," he said cautiously. "This can be a rallying point for the armies against the Blight. Afterwards, when we're rebuilding the Wardens, at least we'll have a base."

"But you don't like it."

"Wouldn't make my home here, that's for certain."

He doubted anyone who knew what had transpired here would. Alistair, as a Warden, knew that they had to do anything necessary to meet their goals. But when those means involved summoning demons to win a battle, that's when he started doubting his life choices. Sophia Dryden, for all her charisma and tactical brilliance, had crossed a line that he never would be able to forgive.

The thought that gave him trouble was whether Duncan would have made the same choice in the same situation? Would Aedan? Would _he?_ Was it only a matter of time and experience before he became a twisted monster of logic?

Aedan was halfway there. The way he'd played the demon-possessed Sophia Dryden and decided to keep Avernus–a Warden mage who'd kept himself alive for centuries using blood magic and experimented on his fellow Wardens–around showed a fiercely pragmatic worldview. Aedan was more of a Warden than he himself was and that was the bitter truth.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Just thinking." He placed his elbows on the crenellations and leant forward. "Say what you will about this place, but it's got a grand view."

It was true. He could see the entirety of northern Ferelden stretched out before him. To the north, he could even see the coastline o the Free Marches. Leliana just hummed.

"I agree, but what have you there?"

"Oh, this?" He brought up the metal rod that he'd been twirling between his fingers. "Apparently, this is a golem control rod. Levi gave it to me. Said he'd had it lying around for years. I thought it'd be a good thing to scratch my back with, you know? Those places you can't reach? Well, not anymore!"

Leliana said nothing for a bit. "Is it real?"

"So he says. Apparently there's a golem in Honnleath. Right in the middle of the square. This thing is supposed to wake it up."

"Are you planning on going there, then?"

"If I do, I'm taking Solona with me. Show her Cullen's hometown. Maybe she'll like it."

She smiled warmly at that and Alistair felt the familiar feeling of his heart wanting to jump out of his chest. _Oh, here we go again._

"That is very sweet of you, Alistair. I think you should go."

 _Say it. Say it now_. "Well." He shuffled his feet but kept his eyes on hers. "Uh, you can come along too, if you want. I doubt Solona would want to travel with just _me_. It'd bore her greatly."

Leliana hummed. Said nothing. Alistair fought back an eye-roll. _Damn woman_.

"I'd like you to come along, too." He rubbed the back of his neck. "If you want to, that is."

It was awkward and embarrassing to ask, but it was worth it when he saw a grin split her face.

"I would love to."

Love _to? Really? Oh no. I'm grinning like an idiot now, too. Good job, me. Ugh. You and your awkward Templar ways._

Before he could pull his head out of the ground and suitably answer, the person in question rounded the corner and headed straight for them. Solona Amell looked tense and worried and upon being asked what the matter was, she bit her lip.

"Have any of you seen Aedan?"

Alistair exchanged a look with Leliana. She shook her head. The last he'd seen him was last night at dinner. He looked over at Solona. "Has something happened?"

"I can't find him. I've looked everywhere," she answered. "I think he's gone."

"Gone?" Leliana sounded flabbergasted. "Gone where?"

Alistair looked out over the horizon. Watched the entirety of northern Ferelden stretched out before him. "I think I know."

Both Leliana and Solona looked at him expectantly and he pointed eastwards, straight at Highever, tiny in the distance.

"He's gone home."

* * *

 **A/N: Next chapter will be from Aedan's POV.**


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

The guard dropped first to his knees, then on his face, his throat ripped clean out. Aedan was on his way before he'd even stopped twitching. There was no point in wasting time. The cover of night would only last for so long.

As soon as he rounded the bend, he came face to face with what he hoped was the last of Howe's guards. The man, startled, fumbled with his sword belt and opened his mouth to shout something. Aedan stabbed the man in the throat. Instantly, instinctively. He buried the blade and jerked it left. _Sever the windpipe. Keep him quiet_. Not that it mattered. _Clean house_ , he thought as he stepped aside to avoid the fountain of blood.

Eight guards. He'd counted. Over and over. All day. Now there were eight bodies. He would leave them there. No point in hiding them. It would serve as a message to Howe directly. _I'm here, asshole. And you're next._

He dropped the knife on the rapidly dying man's body and moved on, strolling through the grounds of what was once Castle Cousland.

 _Home_.

Or whatever remained of it. The damage from the siege hadn't been repaired. The windows were still broken. The guard's barracks, the servant's quarters, the Chantry, the kitchen – everything was covered in cobwebs, rat shit and ten months worth of dust.

Ten months. He'd kept count. In the beginning, he'd thought of it every day and night. Thought about every detail. Over and over. He refused to let himself forget. Then one day before going to bed, after six months, he'd realised that he'd not thought about it all day.

That was the first time he'd cried in many, many years. Morrigan had been sympathetic. _As_ _sympathetic as she can be_ , he thought. The witch had been good to him. He'd tried to be good to her, too. Evidently, he'd not been good enough.

Aedan walked up the cobbled path to the main hall. The double doors were gone now, but he couldn't make out much in the dark. He didn't want to light a torch. Having come alone and without arms and armour, he didn't want to draw unnecessary attention to himself. So he placed his hands on his hips and looked up at the keep, still pointing defiantly up at the sky.

 _Home_ , he thought again. All the guards, servants, staff, his family... they'd all been buried in a mass grave outside the small Chantry within the premises. Howe'd had the decency to do that, at least.

 _Uncle Rendon Howe_. The one who'd given him his first taste of beer. The one who'd make him sit on his knee and tell him stories. The one who'd been godfather to him and his brother.

The same one who'd laid siege to his house, killed his family, branded them traitors and taken their land.

And the one who he would kill by choking him with his own guts.

Aedan took a deep breath. Avernus' potion had made him strangely irritable. The mage had said that it was to be expected, though he said it would pass soon.

He'd said many things.

 _Why do you think the Grey Warden who kills an Archdemon always dies?_

He'd assumed that it was because of injuries. He'd been dead wrong.

Aedan took a good long look at his surroundings. It didn't fit with what he remembered, but this was the reality. And he wanted to burn it into the back of his mind.

 _Home is not a place_ , he'd told Morrigan. _Home is people. If you go back there after the people are gone, all you'll find is what there isn't any more_.

Simple words. He'd not thought about how true it was. So he closed his eyes, took a final, deep breath, and turned to leave.

There was a saying. _Out of sight, out of mind_. Aedan knew that to be true now. For four months, he'd thought about the events of that night at Highever less and less. He didn't even remember when he'd stopped feeling guilty. For a time, despite all the shit going on around him, he'd been happy. With Lucien and Morrigan. With Alistair and Leliana and Solona. With Wynne, Sten, Zevran, Oghren and Faren.

But then a fucking Guardian Spirit had reminded him. Levi Dryden, with his honest and earnest desire to clear his family name, had reminded him. And seeing Highever from the tower of Soldier's Peak had reminded him.

 _Out of sight, out of mind. Wise words._

He found three more horses beside his own when he made it out. Three cloaked figures, milling about and talking amongst themselves. They looked at him. Aedan stopped in his tracks, felt his muscles tense.

"You know, when I said I wanted to visit Highever, this wasn't what I meant."

He felt his muscles relax again. _Alistair, Leliana and Zevran. No threats_.

The detour had been nice while it lasted.

 _Why do you think the Grey Warden who kills an Archdemon also dies?_

But there was still work to be done.

 _If killed by anyone other than a Grey Warden, its soul will escape to the nearest Darkspawn. If killed by a Warden, the soul will assail that Warden's taint, destroying both souls. So don't strike the killing blow if you want to live._

"I'll give you a guided tour after the Archdemon's dead," he told Alistair with a smirk as he mounted his horse.

 _Home is not a place_. _Home is people. If you go back there after the people are gone, all you'll find is what there isn't any more_.

As Alistair and Zevran bickered, as Leliana laughed to herself, Aedan glanced over his shoulder at Castle Cousland. One last time.

 _Mum, Dad, Fergus, Oren, Orianna... wait for me._

He dug his heels into the horse's hindquarters and took off. The cover of night would only last so long.

 _I'll be home soon._


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

"I love how potato in Orlesian is _pomme de terre_ – basically earth apple. I mean, what stupid Orlesian fop saw _this_ –" Alistair held up the potato in his hand up against the sky, "–and thought, 'zis _petite légume_ looks like a, how you say, APPLE! Hmmm… but it grows in ze earth… _HON HON HON! MAIS OUI! C'EST UNE POMME DE TERRE!_ '" He threw his arms about expressively as he displayed his mastery of the language – and the exaggerated accent. Then he turned on his side and grinned at her. "You know what I mean?"

Leliana offered him a smile but couldn't think of anything to say. It wasn't that she didn't want to, but she was rather tired. The weather and her immediate surroundings were perfect for sleeping and it was a temptation that was hard to resist.

It was a bright and sunny winter afternoon, and after a morning filled with fighting Darkspawn, demon possessed cats and Marjolaine's assassins, Leliana had decided to lie down in the shadow of the golem statue and get some rest. It was deserved. Not like the golem was going anywhere, either – Alistair had tried to bring it to life with his control rod but it hadn't worked.

Their little detour through Honnleath hadn't been a complete waste, however. Solona was both happy and sad to see Cullen's hometown – and the state it was in. Aedan was still a bit distant and quiet, but people were like that after a relationship broke down, so she wasn't worried about him as much. The rest were just taking things easy.

Except Alistair.

"You know, growing up, every meal I ate had potatoes in it." He put the potato down on the grass between them and spun it with his fingers. "I loved them. They were the first thing I learnt to cook, actually. Baked potatoes. I was always afraid I'd muck it up. Ruin the potatoes, cut them weirdly, add too much salt. If I did, I got the cane." He chuckled. "Potatoes build character. Or rather, earth apples."

 _Bless his heart_. He was trying so hard to engage her in conversation and not leave her by herself. She appreciated the gesture, but after her past had come back to assassinate her, Leliana just wasn't–

"Did you have a fear like that when you were little?"

The question made her think. She folded her hands behind her head, hummed and closed her eyes.

"When I was a little girl, I had a fear of spiders. I was told they felt no emotion; that their hearts never beat. I thought they were undead. So Lady Cecilie kept a dead spider in an empty matchbox. Whenever I refused to eat, she would bring it out and frighten me into eating."

"Damn."

She smiled. "Much later, when Marjolaine took me under her wing, she made sure to assuage most of my fears. In our line of work, phobias were a distraction. She told me that spiders were never more alive than at the moment of the kill. Made me face my fears and take inspiration from them." She paused, letting the memories flow. Mission after mission. Death after death. Leliana opened her eyes. "Marjolaine was like that. She was... amazing. At least, that was what I thought. She moulded me into what she wanted me to be, all the while making me think that it was my decision to be so. But I still enjoyed doing what I did, so it is very much a part of who I am."

Alistair was silent, but he propped himself up on an elbow. Leliana went on. "I don't know why she's suddenly decided to neutralise me now, but it only means I have to deal with her sooner rather than later. It isn't... something I'm looking forward to, to be honest. But..."

"But?"

"But I'll be afraid no longer," she told him, putting all her effort into producing a confident smile. Alistair's gaze remained steady. "Come what may, this is a confrontation that _needs_ to happen. Needed to happen a long time ago. I assume she left me alone because I took refuge in the Chantry. But now things are coming to a head and I'll deal with them as I see fit. I'm going to live a long life, Alistair, and I'm going to do it on my terms. I will be who I want to be and cast away all shadows haunting me. I'm going to be Leliana. Not a Chantry Sister and not a bloodthirsty assassin. I will be Leliana... and whatever that life entails, it will be mine. "

Leliana had trouble believing her own words. They reverberated through her system like a bouncing gong. But now that she'd said them out loud, they sounded less insurmountable. Less imposing. She took a deep breath to steady her heart and said, "So there you are."

Then he leaned down and kissed her. It was so sudden that she didn't know what was happening until it was. As soon as his lips touched hers, pent-up longing burst through her body and she pulled him into an embrace. It was beyond anything Leliana had imagined in all her fantasies. His warm skin, solid shape and searching lips were _real_. He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks and her forehead before capturing her mouth again. She gave herself completely to the kiss.

Finally, Alistair pulled back and gently brushed away her hair from her forehead. He muttered, "Thank the Maker for you."

So many emotions ran rampant in her mind at that moment that it overwhelmed her. Leliana was sure they showed on her face because Alistair frowned and jerked back, expression frozen.

 _Oh no._

"Shit." He sat up looking wretched. "Bloody hell, I'm so, so sorry! You were upset and I wanted to cheer you up and you were opening up to me and you weren't expecting to get jumped but I got carried away and I'm sorry, I'm–I'm sorry, I–" He pulled on his hair in frustration as Leliana sat up beside him. "This is a disaster. I'm sorry, Leliana. I just–"

Any other time Leliana would have found his babbling adorable. Probably would have teased him. Now, words wouldn't work.

So she placed a hand on her shoulder to make him look at her and when he did, she cupped his face with her hands and kissed him. "Stop talking," she commanded against his mouth as she manoeuvred herself onto his lap and wrapped her legs around him. She felt his arms snake around her back and she rubbed his cheeks with her thumbs.

Alistair sighed deeply when she pulled away and Leliana pressed her forehead against his, unable to help her smile. She waited for him to speak. She wanted to know what he'd say. He cleared his throat after he caught his breath, but he still sounded shaky.

"Could I have another one of those if you've got a spare, because that was good, the whole lips thing, and the face touching, because I could do that all day until I have to go on guard duty and–"

She chuckled fondly. She couldn't help it. Leliana rubbed her nose against his and looped her arms around his neck. "Deal," she told him, guiding him back to lie on the grass. Her hair fell around them, creating a curtain and shielding them from the world.

As she slanted her lips over his, Leliana thought that it was a blessing that the golem hadn't woken up. It would have been awkward, sharing their first kiss in front of a stone warrior.

But it had happened finally. She knew that they still had a lot of things to talk through before... well, going steady, but this was a start. They'd figure out the rest as they went. She was sure of it.

* * *

 **A/N: You may officially rejoice xD**


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

Alistair wanted to _die_. Or disappear, failing that. He just couldn't handle being in the party. Not with everyone smirking at him like they knew all his secret cheese fantasies. They didn't, of course. That would've been _much_ worse.

News had spread. First Aedan. Then Zevran. And now even Solona wouldn't stop smirking at him. It was maddening!

And to crown it all, Shale remembered _everything_. Everything! The statue he and Leliana had been... had been... affectionate under had come alive, and remembered everything!

 _What have I done to deserve this? Was it all the cheese I ate, Duncan? Is kissing girls bad? Because it felt very good. How can something that feels so good be bad I don't know anymore okay I need to stop thinking so much._

Which was easier said than done. Alistair had been unable to think of anything – or anyone – else ever since that afternoon. The feeling of something bubbling in his stomach was ever present, along with a spring in his step.

For Alistair was _happy_. Despite all the embarrassment and the looks levelled his way, he felt happier than he had in a long while. Perhaps it would fade, but it didn't seem to be going anywhere soon. Of course he didn't _want_ it to fade. He wanted it to last. He wanted... _more_.

With a deep sigh, he stared into the crackling fire. It was past dinnertime and he'd not had a chance to talk to Leliana. The day had gotten away from them, what with a golem suddenly coming awake. That tended to create a fuss. Fortunately, Matthias, the village head, had provided the inn at their disposal, so it wasn't all bad. Alistair appreciated the gesture, though he couldn't bring himself to lie down and sleep.

 _Not tonight._

The others were hopefully all asleep. At least, he hadn't seen any of them up and about. He certainly hoped they were asleep. It wouldn't do to be tired on the long walk to Redcl–

"Hello, Alistair."

A soft voice. A shy tone. A gentle Orlesian lilt. The combined effect made Alistair almost cough up his heart.

He turned around to find her smiling at him, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. The fire cast shadows over face, seemingly amplifying the brightness of her eyes. She looked beautiful.

"Hey," he replied. Alistair felt rather proud of himself when his voice didn't shake.

Leliana picked the armchair beside his before the fireplace. Alistair couldn't look away from her the entire time. She turned and smiled at him again when she'd settled down.

"Trouble sleeping?"

Alistair shook his head. "No I just... couldn't stop thinking."

"What were you thinking about?"

"You." He hesitated. "Us."

She grinned at that, as if she'd been expecting it. Leliana gazed at him expectantly, silently urged him to keep talking. Alistair, who'd been thinking about what to say for a long time, took a few moments to gather his thoughts.

It still seemed surreal that they had _kissed_. That _he'd_ initiated something like that. That she'd been _open_ to it. But that was in the past. He wanted to make sure that there would be more kissing in the future, too.

He knew that she was... used to such things. Maybe such actions didn't mean as much to her, but he wanted to be sure regardless.

"I care about you. A great deal. And not in a 'let's be best friends forever' kind of way. Though you already know this." He placed his elbows on his thighs and leaned forward. "I've spent days and weeks thinking about what to tell you in this instance – should the opportunity ever arise. Now, I just have no idea what to say."

"It is fine, Alistair. I can help you there."

"Oh?"

Leliana nodded and fixed her gaze on his. Alistair gulped.

"Alistair, you have made this journey not only bearable, but memorable. You have always been a friend and confidante, someone I can trust and be comfortable around." She smiled. "There were times when we would be up during guard duty that I would succumb to sleep, only to wake and find you watchful and protective. I know you will always be there for me. You have been the best friend anybody could have asked for and sometimes, well, many times actually... I've wondered whether we could be... more than that?"

He sat in silence for a bit, turning over what she'd said. Leliana had kept it remarkably short and sweet. Not that he'd been expecting a giant speech or anything. It just amused him that such matters could be expressed verbally in such a succinct manner.

But some things still needed to be cleared up.

"You have no problem with me going bonkers and going off to die in thirty or so years?"

 _That_ was the main problem.

Leliana sighed and reached out to take his hand. "Alistair, we have been circling around each other for a long time. Do you agree?" _How can I not?_ "What with the coming conflict, I do not know what the future holds. Anything can happen." He squeezed her hand. She smiled. "I do not want to waste any more time. I want to make the most of whatever time we can get. Don't you?"

It seemed ridiculous, furthering romantic interests in the shadow of war, but here he was. It didn't feel wrong, either. If anything, her words made him happy in a way. It was true that there were no guarantees in any conflict. There was no overabundance of control. Yet they'd managed to carve out a little niche for themselves despite all the chaos, and the only logical step was to nurture it. He didn't care even if it _wasn't_ logical.

"All right." Alistair nodded and brought her knuckles to his lips. "All right. I guess we're really going for it, then?"

Leliana hummed, amused. "I guess so."

"Good. Great." Alistair nodded again. "Now what? Am I supposed to do anything specific at this point? Wait, why're you smiling? What did I do?"

With a quiet laugh, Leliana left her chair and came and sat on his lap. She tucked her legs under his and snuggled into his chest, placing her head on his shoulder.

"I was hoping we could start with some light cuddling," she said as she stroked his chest. "Nothing _too_ dangerous, so don't worry."

Alistair chuckled and wrapped his trembling arms around her. _Oh, I'm going to die._

"You Orlesians are _really_ forward."

"We have to be. Men can be _so_ dumb."

"...fair."


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

"Now that I think about it, I was always the rear guard," Alistair said as he drank some water. "Good to know that some things don't change."

"How chivalrous." Leliana smirked. "Though I wonder if you always chose the rear guard so you could look over everyone... or focus upon my rear?"

To his credit, Alistair had already swallowed so he didn't choke. However, he did blush adorably and looked at her with wide eyes.

"What?! I would _never_ –"

Leliana kept smirking at him. He sighed.

"All right, fine. Maybe just a little bit." He huffed and turned away. "I didn't _stare_ or anything."

Laughing, Leliana gave his hand a little squeeze. "I do not mind, Alistair. In fact, I was quite proud of myself."

He snapped back to her, looking scandalised. "You _knew_?!"

"Of course I knew. Most women know. It is instinctual, I think."

Alistair dropped his face into his other palm. "Someone just kill me already."

Leliana bumped him with her shoulder. "You are so dramatic. I love it."

That made him go even redder. "I swear..."

It was a game she had devised just that morning – seeing how much she could embarrass Alistair. It was a win for her every time he blushed. So far, she had won a lot. It was absolutely one-sided, in fact. But it was all in good fun and, really, she couldn't help herself. He was just too cute.

They were on the return march to Redcliffe and Alistair, who always took the rear guard, had asked her to join him in the back. She wasn't surprised – they had no reason to be sneaky – but it did make her happy that he wanted to spend as much as he could with her. That he'd taken her hand and had been holding it ever since morning was something she found utterly adorable.

But it wouldn't do to let him get complacent. She had to keep up the assault! Strike while the iron was hot and all that.

"So, Alistair," she began after a while. She had to give him some time to compose himself. She wasn't _that_ heartless. "Is it true what they say?"

He shot her a most suspicious look through narrowed lids. "About what?"

She made sure to look extra innocent. "You know..."

"About cheese?" He blinked. "What do they say about cheese?"

"No, about your feet."

"My feet? They talk about my feet?" Alistair looked ahead at the rest of the party, then pointed at them and looked back at her, brows furrowed. "The rest of the party you mean? They say things about my feet? What do they say? They say they're smelly, don't they?"

Leliana shook her head, smiling. "No, Alistair. Nothing like that. In fact, I think your feet smell perfectly acceptable."

"I... thanks. I guess."

"Mhmm. They do say you have big feet, though."

"Really?" He looked down at his boots. "They talk about how large my feet are?" He then looked up and stuck out his bottom lip. "That's just... I don't know. Weird."

Leliana sighed. "I mean, there is an expression about large feet."

Alistair brightened immediately. "Oh, yeah! Right! Right."

"Oh? You know the one I mean?"

Alistair deflated immediately. "...um, no."

 _Sweet summer child_. "Well. They say that if your feet are large, so are... _other_ parts."

"You mean, like my hands?" He brought up his other hand and studied his palm intently. "I have big hands?"

Leliana wanted to smack her forehead. "No, that's–"

"They're not _that_ big, are they?" he went on unhindered. "Like, freakishly big?" He looked at her and held up their linked hands. "You're holding it. What do _you_ think?"

It was at that point that Leliana sighed and started massaging her temples. Memories of trying to teach him Orlesian came unbidden and she shuddered. _It's too hard_.

"Why, Alistair? Why are you like this? Why must you make innuendo so difficult?"

"Innuendo?" Alistair stopped walking and so did she. "You mean..."

"Yes." She looked up at him tiredly. " _That_."

"Oh." Alistair looked right at her. The redness crept up his neck, then it coloured his cheeks and his ears.

 _There! That is all I wanted!_

" _Oh_ ," Alistair repeated intelligently and started walking again. He didn't look at her. "Now I can't even stare at my feet. That's just cruel, Leli. I thought we were friends."

At that, Leliana giggled and wrapped her arms around his own. Then she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"At least you blush adorably."

Alistair tried to frown but couldn't quite manage it. "I hate you."

"How you hurt me, O brave Warden!"

"Women, I swear. Are all women like this?" He was genuinely curious. "All cute in the beginning, only to get progressively more evil?"

"Perhaps. Or maybe it is just my nature." She grinned. "Either way, you lucked out."

Alistair barked out a laugh and looked at her fondly. It made her stomach flip. She let it.

"Yeah," he said and broke his arm out of her grip to wrap it around her shoulders and pull her into his side. "That I did."

Before she could reply, Leliana felt his lips against her temple. It was tender and lingering and she almost tripped over her feet.

 _Oh no_. She ducked her head, smiling stupidly. Sometimes he was hopelessly witless. Other times, he was unbelievably smooth. _How does he do it?_

"I say, there's a show going on in the back."

"Ohohoho, the boy scored!"

"Use tongue, friend Alistair, but in moderation. Just slip it on like you were sucking on–"

"Damn it, man!" Alistair said, exasperated. "Will you people stop interrupting our moments? When have I ever interrupted any of you?"

"I'm just happy for you, man," Aedan replied from the front.

"I was just trying to help," Zevran said, spreading his arms to demonstrate his innocence. "You seemed like you could use the instruction."

"Ohohoho! I always knew you twos was gonna end up together. I miss nothing." Oghren took a sip from his flask. "I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox."

Then he promptly tripped over the roots of a tree and fell flat on his face.

"Clearly," Morrigan commented drily.

"Bloody hell," Alistair muttered, though a smile on the corners of his lips.

Leliana just smiled up at him. She knew he loved them. In his own way.

So she wrapped her arms around his torso and rested her head in the crook of his neck, getting comfortable.

He was dumb a boy, but he was _her_ dumb boy. And Leliana wouldn't have it any other way.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

"Right," said Alistair as he sat down beside Leliana and opened up his journal. "I came to gossip."

Leliana lifted a brow. She looked at the journal. Alistair held it up.

"This is where I write down notes."

"You are very meticulous."

"Hey, if I have to do something, I do it properly."

"It is a good policy." She nodded. "Does it also extend to the _people_ you do, or no?"

Alistair almost dropped the quill. He opened his mouth. Then he closed it again. Finally, he just sighed.

"Why are you like this?"

Leliana shrugged. "It is a valid question, Alistair. I am emotionally invested in your reply, you know."

"Yes, I'm sure you are." He grimaced. "But like I was saying before you distracted me: gossip."

"So you find me distracting?"

"Damn it, Leli."

It had been a rather long day of walking, and at the end of it, Alistair had been happy to find that neither he nor Leliana would be on guard duty that night. Aedan had given him the news with much smirking and winking, but Alistair knew better. It was too soon.

So after dinner, he'd asked Leliana whether he could invite himself to her tent for a talk. She'd readily accepted. And now there he was, getting all flustered with the innuendo. He did it to himself, really.

But she just laughed and scooted closer. "What is this about, Alistair?"

"Oh, I just wanted to ask you about some of the party members," he replied. "I've had more than enough time to form my own opinions about them, and I just wanted to see if yours are any different."

"That sounds like fun," Leliana replied with a grin and sat up cross-legged. "Go ahead and ask. I have not gossiped in a long time."

"Right." Alistair opened his journal and dipped his quill into the inkwell, poised to write. "What do you think of Oghren? You must have an opinion on the smell, at least?"

Leliana crinkled her nose. That told him more than any amount of words would. "Other than that... I quite like him."

Alistair nodded. "I would, too, if he could stick to the ribald stories and not so much with the belching and projectile vomiting. How he lifts his axe is a mystery."

"Ah, but he _does_ lift it. _That_ is the point."

"Hmm. And if you point him in the right direction, he charges, too."

"He has... gusto, I'll give him that."

"What about Sten?"

"He's a softy," she answered immediately. "He is a softy and you can't convince me otherwise."

"I mean." Alistair scratched the back of his head with the quill. "The way he looks at with those eyes... creepy."

"Softy."

"And he's so quiet for someone so big," Alistair went on. If he didn't stop the 'softy' spiel before it began, she'd go on and on about it. "He doesn't seem quite so bad as the Chantry tells us, either. According to them, the qunari philosophy sounds so vile and evil. Yet he's so reasonable."

"Do you believe everything the Chantry tells you, Alistair?" She smiled wanly. "The Chantry tells us that most claims of visions and such are usually people's minds playing tricks on them. Wishful thinking at best."

She had a point there. "True enough. But he is dedicated, I suppose."

"And a softy."

"Yes, yes. But what about Zevran? Do you trust his vow?"

"Absolutely. He is genuine in his efforts to help us."

Another prompt reply. "That's... an awful amount of trust to place on someone who tried to kill us, you know."

"Zevran and I... we've lived similar lives." Leliana was silent for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. "I understand him. Better than most people."

He studied her as she said it. She seemed... sad, in a way. Why that was, he didn't know.

"I trust you," he told her quietly. "And I trust your judgement."

She smiled at him. "So who is next on your list?"

"Morrigan."

"Ahh, of course."

"She still your friend?"

"Yes."

" _Why_?"

She laughed. "I must confess, I did not like her much in the beginning. She was very standoffish and cold. I thought her a vile fiend."

"Uh-huh," Alistair said encouragingly as he wrote furiously. "Keep it coming, Leli."

"But I think she has grown much over the course of this journey. But you still don't like her much, do you?"

"Well, other than the fact that she's a complete and utter _bitch_... no, I don't like her at all." Alistair put down his quill and frowned. "She's _evil_. And _mean_. How Aedan did it, I don't know."

"You poor baby. Did the mean witch hurt you with her flaming words?"

Alistair rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Yes. Indeed I do. Are we done?"

Alistair closed his journal and nodded. "Yep. My curiosity has been sated."

"But mine hasn't."

He looked up. "Hmm? What do you mean?"

Twirling her braid with her fingers, Leliana smirked. "What do you think of me?"

Alistair knew danger when he heard it. "You know exactly how I feel about you."

"Indulge me." She smiled up at him. "Please?"

 _Oh, the_ smile _._ Always _the smile! I am doomed. Doomed!_

"I... honestly, I don't know what to make of you." He sighed and looked at the ground. "Sometimes, when you're not looking, I look at you. Your face, I mean." He heard her snort and shook his head. "You just look so... so sad. I felt guilty about taking you away from your life."

"It was my choice, Alistair."

"I know." He shrugged. "I still felt bad. Back then anyway. Now I don't think that way." He looked up and smiled at her. "All right, then. What do _you_ think of _me_?"

"I think you are really damn cute."

He felt her hands on his cheeks and her lips on his and just like that, she was sitting on his lap again. Alistair didn't even know how she moved so fast but he wasn't about to ruin the moment with needless question.

 _Especially a hot moment like this. Hoo boy._

The kisses were slow, insistent and hungry. Leliana's arms snaked around his neck and she pressed herself against him. Alistair placed his hands on her waist and did his best to keep pace. One could only improve with practice, and he'd been getting a lot of that over the past couple of days.

He slid his hands down her back to her hips and up again and she hummed quietly against his mouth.

 _Well if she likes it..._

Alistair, in a fit of exploratory curiosity, and emboldened by Leliana's sounds, lowered his hands down further and cupped her buttocks tenderly _._ Before he knew it, he had squeezed and kneaded and pulled her hips against his.

 _Fuuuck!_

Leliana grunted and rewarded his curiosity by nibbling on his lower lip. Alistair didn't care. He was beyond such normal everyday emotions such as caring. No, he had just ascended to a higher plane of existence where nothing really mattered anymore.

 _Who knew butt could be so potent? What did Wynne say when she caught me staring at Leli's butt before? Enraptured. Well, I'm really fuckin' enraptured now._

But apparently Leliana wasn't as enraptured with his mouth as he was with her butt for she pulled away a little.

 _No! Don't take this glorious adventure away from me! I beg you come back Leli I–_

His overactive mind came to an abrupt and deafening halt when he felt her tongue on his lower lip.

"Fuck," he said quietly.

"Alistair." There was a quiet intensity to her voice. Her eyes were twinkling with amusement. "Would you like me to teach you how Orlesians use tongue?"

It was at that moment that Alistair knew he would be occupied for the rest of the night.

"Yes, please."

* * *

 **A/N: Next chapter will be from Aedan's POV.**


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 38**

Once he had finished his dinner, Aedan stood and stretched. It had been rather heavy, even by Grey Warden standards. He'd given everybody the night off and wanted to take guard duty for himself because he didn't want to lie down and not get any sleep again. It got very old very fast.

 _If I'm gonna stay awake, might as well do something productive._

Ever since his visit to Highever, sleep had been hard to come by. Wynne had made a sleeping draught for him but he hadn't taken it. One day. Not yet.

Sighing, he shoved his hands into his pockets and went about his round. He did that every night to make sure everybody was accounted for. Solona and Wynne had already turned in, he knew. He found Faren sitting outside his tent, carving something out of a piece of wood. Aedan stood and watched him for some time.

"I'm making a nug," the dwarf said at length. He didn't look up. "My sister... she liked these."

Aedan came a bit closer. "What's her name?"

"Rica." A pause. "Rica Brosca. Unless she's found someone to marry by now."

Aedan nodded. "Were you close?"

"We had to be." He didn't offer an explanation. Aedan didn't ask for one. "I just hope she's okay."

He offered a smile. "That's why we're doing this, Faren. That's the only reason."

Finally, Faren looked up and nodded. Then he went back to his work. Aedan moved on.

And stepped on Oghren's vomit. He found the dwarf lying on his back in the grass, knocked out. With a grunt, Aedan cleaned his boot on the grass as best as he could. Then he picked up the dwarf and deposited him in his tent.

"Choose a better place to conk out," he muttered as he emerged from Oghren's tent. " _Eejit_."

He was hopeless, Oghren was. But Aedan could understand him. The only reason he himself hadn't taken refuge in drink was because... _hmm_. He didn't _know_ why he hadn't. _Never thought about it. Maker knows I have enough reason to._

Perhaps because it'd be an easy escape. The same reason he hadn't killed himself. The same reason he'd gone back to Highever. The same reason he lay awake at night thinking about what had happened almost a year ago, about what he would do to Howe should he ever get the chance.

He didn't want an easy escape. It was strange, but he wanted to suffer. It fuelled him. Nothing else did anymore. The only way to deal with the complacency that came with making peace with one's mortality was to find something that grinded one's gears. A pain in the side. It kept one awake.

"You are in thought," Sten commented and that jolted Aedan out of his reverie. He hadn't even noticed when he'd walked over to the qunari who was polishing his sword.

"How'd you know?"

Sten shrugged. "Your eyes were clouded. You were not focusing."

Aedan smiled. "Yeah. I wasn't. Just... thinking about how the world works and how I work in relation to it."

Sten stopped his work and looked up at him. "A great ashkaari during his travels came upon a village in the desert. There, he found the houses crumbling. The earth so dry and dead that the people tied themselves to each other for fear a strong wind would carry the ground out from under their feet. Nothing grew there except the bitter memory of gardens. The ashkaari stopped the first man he saw, and asked, 'What happened here?' 'Drought came. And the world changed from prosperity to ruin,' the man told him. 'Change it back.' The ashkaari replied. The villager became angry then, believing the ashkaari mocked him, for no one could simply change the world on a whim. To which the ashkaari answered, 'Then change yourself. You make your own world.'"

He went right back to polishing. Aedan smiled.

"Thanks, Sten," he said and moved ahead, getting a grunt as a reply.

Everyone was out to meet him, it would seem, for he found Zevran standing outside Leliana's tent, snickering. Aedan sighed.

"What did you do, Zevran?"

"I did nothing. The doing is being done by them."

That gave Aedan pause. "They're... doing it?"

"No. Unfortunately. However, the fair bard is instructing Alistair in the use of tongue. Has been for a while. I believe they won't do it tonight, though."

"You can tell?"

Zevran nodded. "Always."

"Well." Aedan walked away. "Don't bother them."

"Aye, Captain."

He walked onwards to the edge of the circle of tents and looked out at the smaller fire burning outside Morrigan's tent, a ways off. She sat reading by the fire and he just watched her.

Many times he'd wanted to go up and tell her what Avernus had told him. Hold her one more time. Tell her he loved her.

 _What's the point?_

He could motivate himself to get up every day and do what was needed to stop the Blight. This, however, he could not do. He knew that no good would come of it. She had made her decision. He would honour it.

 _What else can I do?_

Perhaps she felt his presence because she looked up and met his gaze. She looked unsure. Aedan cursed himself for staring too long. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

But then she smiled hesitantly and nodded at him. Aedan set his jaw and nodded back. Raised his hand to wave but thought better and dropped it to his side. There was no point. He turned and went back to the fire, only to find Shale sitting there.

"It seems that it is fond of the swamp witch."

Aedan was surprised into a chuckle. "'Swamp witch'?"

"Is that not what it is?"

"It's certainly," he looked back over his shoulder, "accurate."

"My question still stands."

Talking to a golem was something Aedan was still adjusting to. He had to constantly remind himself that Shale was a sentient statue, not just another slave to a control rod.

"I am fond of her, yes," he replied.

"The swamp witch is also fond of it."

"I think she is."

"And the swamp witch and it... engage in mating?"

"We used to," he answered and sat down beside the golem. "We don't anymore."

"I see," Shale said and fell silent for a while. "Why does it persist on pursuing such an arduous objective? Would it not be simpler to let these Darkspawn end life?"

Aedan nodded. "It would be. But there is no meaning in taking the easy way, I believe. Besides, I wouldn't be doing anything. In actuality, I would be doing nothing in that scenario." He looked at Shale. "And I don't want to do nothing. Neither do I want to be helpless."

The golem looked at him for a long moment. "I understand it."

"I'm glad."

"But it agrees that this quest is dumb?"

"Absolutely."

"Good."

Aedan chuckled. "Don't you need to sleep, Shale?"

"No. Unlike you fleshy creatures, golems do not have that weakness."

"Then do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Does _it_ not need sleep?"

"I _can't_ sleep." He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. "Not yet. Not now."

A long pause. "I shall allow it to stay, but if it talks ceaselessly, I shall break its head."

"That works for me, Shale. That works for me."

* * *

 **A/N: Well, that's all, folks. Hope you enjoyed this series of updates, and I'll see you all in a few months! Take care~**


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